


Evermore

by originella



Series: Evermore [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU - No Battle of Hogwarts, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bottom Draco Malfoy, Bottom Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy is not a Death Eater, Draco and Neville are soulmates, Draville - Freeform, F/M, Good Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Harry Potter is a Horcrux, Horcrux Hunting, M/M, Miscarriage, Mpreg, POV Alternating, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Past Torture, Potter-Snape family, The Deathly Hallows, Top Neville Longbottom, Top Severus Snape, Vernon Dursley Being an Asshole, Virgin Harry Potter, snarry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-03-20 18:57:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 16
Words: 114,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18998554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/originella/pseuds/originella
Summary: “I don’t have the Trace on me anymore,” he said flatly, crossing his arms. “Trace breaks at seventeen. I turned seventeen yesterday.”“I’m well aware of that, Potter,” Snape said with a sneer. “However, I should warn you that Death Eaters will swarm this place shortly—”“What?” Harry asked. “You mean, besides you?”Snape’s lip curled at that; yes, he knew he deserved all that and more, but actually hearing it from someone as pure and perfect as Harry... “Yes, besides me, Potter,” he said, his tone soft. “I know I’m likely the last person you want to see right now...”“You’re right,” Harry said, and moved to leave.





	1. The One Who Had It All

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lizzy0305](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizzy0305/gifts).



Harry remained sitting in the living room after Rufus Scrimgeour had left him, Ron, and Hermione with the former possessions of Albus Dumbledore, to be left to them in the wake of his death, which had occurred just weeks previously. The bitterness in Harry’s throat as he thought of what had happened on the final day of June had never faded completely, especially that Severus Snape was the murderer in question. The very fact that Draco Malfoy, his sworn enemy since he’d arrived at Hogwarts in September of 1991, was lowering his wand just moments before the execution, and that Snape, his potions professor, who had seemed to loathe his very existence almost as long as he’d known Malfoy, had swept in and done the deed himself, just made Harry’s skin crawl.

Harry had nodded absentmindedly when Ron and Hermione slipped outside to help the rest of Ron’s family in setting up the beautiful country grounds of the Burrow for Bill and Fleur’s wedding, to take place the following day. Bill, who was Ron’s eldest brother, was always cool to Harry, and he had met him in his fourth year during the time he had been a Triwizard champion, yet another time when he had escaped Lord Voldemort. Harry felt his skin crawl a second time at the notion that the school that he had once called home was now fully under the Dark Lord’s control, given that Snape—the usurper, the murderer, the fiend—was now headmaster. The fact that he now held the position over so many young witches and wizards, which he had literally killed for, made Harry’s blood boil.

“Harry.”

The voice of Ginny Weasley would have normally calmed him down, but ever since the two had broken up after Dumbledore’s funeral, just after Snape had killed him, he never felt the same towards the only sister of his best friend. He turned to face her then, her beautiful red hair framing that blazing look on her face that she always seemed to have around him, was lost on him as he got slowly to his feet.

“What is it, Gin?” he asked, pushing his glasses all the way up his nose; they tended to fall downwards whenever he was deep in thought. “Something wrong? Does your mum need me to do something in preparation for tomorrow?”

Ginny shook her head as she worried her bottom lip; her brown eyes shone as she hesitated ever so slightly. She had been a lot more careful, or so he’d heard from Ron, in the weeks since Dumbledore’s death, and not nearly so impulsive. It seemed that Ginny, like many other members of the Wizarding World, wasn’t going to be so tempestuous anymore, now that life had a way of fading out, for the most powerful sorcerer in the world had been enveloped in that green light on the Astronomy Tower, and if he could be killed, who was next?

“No, Mum doesn’t need you for anything. Or Dad,” she put in quickly, knowing that Harry was likely to ask about Arthur Weasley. “I was wondering if I might borrow you for a moment, please, Harry?”

Harry shrugged, nodding his head and watching her walk away from him for a moment before he forced his feet to move along after her. He assumed that she needed his help with something for the wedding, or that she was merely fetching him on someone else’s behalf. Either way, whatever it was, he hoped, would be a good distraction from the weight of the Quidditch snitch in his pocket, or the unwavering doom that had settled over him for the past several weeks that he would be forgoing his final year at Hogwarts in pursuit of the Horcrux hunt that Dumbledore had been preparing him for.

“Just in here,” Ginny said, her voice quiet as they came to a small door, which she opened almost effortlessly, and led him inside. She didn’t flinch as the door shut automatically behind Harry, and as she turned to face him, all hesitation seemed to disappear from her face. “I know that it’s your birthday today, Harry,” she said, her voice quiet. “Mum gave you that watch, Ron gave you the book, Fred and George gave you a bunch of their products and Hermione...”

“If this is leading up to you telling me you forgot to get me something, Gin, or that you’ve got something for me, really, it doesn’t matter,” Harry said quickly, a light chuckle escaping his lips at the notion of another gift for him. “Really. I likely won’t be able to take much with me after Ron and Hermione and I get out of here.”

Ginny nodded, stepping a bit closer to him. “I considered that,” she told him, her voice soft. “I considered every possibility imaginable, and there was more to think about than before, because now you’re of age, and certain things aren’t off-limits like they were before. And yet, the notion that I also wanted you to remember me through the gift...”

Harry shook his head. “Gin, really, you don’t...”

“Yes, I do,” she told him, her voice slightly firmer than it had been. “I have to get you something to remember me by, Harry. I mean, who knows? Maybe you’ll meet a cousin of Fleur’s or something while you’re going there. Veelas are very pretty...”

Harry swallowed then, knowing that he could easily lead in with a compliment right about now, about how pretty Ginny was. Of course, she was pretty; anyone would be a fool to deny such a blatant fact. But the fact remained that everything was up in the air, now that Lord Voldemort was first on Harry’s hit list, and the notion of keeping a girl—or anyone, for that matter—happy while he was hunting for death traps wasn’t the first thing on his list.

“They are, sure,” Harry said, shrugging ever so slightly, the air suddenly becoming rough between the two of them. “Guess it’s not something I thought about...”

“No?” Ginny asked.

He shook his head. “No. Kind of a little too preoccupied with You-Know-Who than to really be thinking about dating...”

Ginny nodded. “There’s the silver-lining I’ve been looking for,” she whispered.

Harry blinked then, nearly staggering backward as Ginny made for him then. “Ginny, what are you—?” he demanded then, the words barely getting out of his mouth as Ginny kissed him. He very nearly squirmed in her arms, although it was difficult to get away from her as she’d fully latched herself onto him. He kept his hands firmly at his sides, and although he wanted more than anything to shove her off and away from him, the notion of hurting her feelings crushed him because, at the end of the day, even if he no longer romantically cared for her, he didn’t want any harm to come to her.

The sound of the door bursting open from behind them was enough for Ginny to pull herself back from Harry, who let out an audible sigh of relief once he turned around. However, the angry look in Ron’s eyes was enough to make him nervous, and he said an awkward goodbye to Ginny as he made for the lopsided staircase. He didn’t stop walking until he got up to the room he shared with Ron and would’ve been all too happy to slam the door on his face, but Ron wasn’t having any of it.

Ron commanded the room as he stamped inside, and Harry merely sat down on the edge of his bed, looking at the exasperated expression on his best friend’s face, while Hermione sensibly closed the door in his wake, and looked terribly awkward. “Do you know what the hell you think you’re doing?!” he demanded.

“Ron!” Hermione shouted.

“No, ‘Mione, he needs to hear this!” Ron thundered, never taking his eyes from Harry. “Do you realize how torn up Ginny was after you ended things?”

Harry sighed. “ _She_ kissed _me_!” he said, his hands flying in the air. “Not the other way around, and certainly not encouraged by me.”

Ron narrowed his eyes. “What were you doing in _her_ room, then? I doubt you got lost in there on your way to a kip.”

Harry muttered something unintelligible under his breath. “No. Ginny just asked me to help her with something...”

“There, now, you see?” Hermione said, allowing herself to step forward. “Harry wasn’t doing anything wrong, Ron...”

“Not now, Hermione,” Ron said, his glare never vanishing. “Did she imply that this thing she needed help with was in her bedroom?”

“No,” Harry replied, fighting to keep his tone level as he crossed his arms, “she didn’t. All she said was that she needed my help. Or that she’d like it, or something. I thought that maybe she was just fetching me on someone else’s behalf. How was I to know that we were going into her bedroom, Ron? I’ve never been in there.”

Ron’s eyes widened. “Never?”

Harry shook his head. “No. No, of course, I haven’t.”

Ron lowered his eyes then; his hands, meanwhile, which he had been using to jam an accusatory finger in Harry’s general direction, had regulated themselves into the pockets of his jeans, so Ron appeared to be quite humbled by Harry sharing this information. “And she kissed you?” he asked then, just for clarification.

Harry nodded. “Yeah. I didn’t know what to make of it, to be honest.”

Ron sighed. “Merlin, I’m sorry, mate,” he said at last. “It’s just that, she’s my sister and the only one of my siblings younger than me. I’ve always been protective of her, because she’s the only girl, and I suppose I let it get into my head...”

Harry raised his hand, gently cutting Ron off. “I get it. Really,” he assured him. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s just focus on the wedding tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah, let’s focus on that!” Hermione said, too enthusiastic for her own good, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “What could be more beautiful than a witch and wizard becoming man and wife, even if the witch is Phlegm?” she asked.

Harry and Ron snickered.

“Don’t let Bill hear you say that,” Ron guffawed.

“‘Mione _always_ casts Silencing Charms whenever we’re alone together because your mum kept barging in one too many times,” Harry put in.

Ron grinned. “Least she didn’t mind when she caught me and ‘Mione snogging these past few weeks since the funeral...”

“Probably was happy it finally happened,” Harry put in.

Hermione blushed. “Boys,” she hissed under her breath, before taking out her wand, and obviously doing away with the Silencing Charm before she huffed out of the room, and slammed the door behind her.

. . .

Harry straightened his silk tie on his dress robes in front of the mirror in his shared bedroom with Ron, who had gone to Hermione’s shared room with Ginny to help her get ready. The room was vacant except for the to of them, as Ginny had been asked by Fleur to do a few last-minute things with her younger sister and other bridesmaid, Gabrielle. Harry yanked at the deep purple tie again with a miserable expression on his face; Ron and Hermione would likely be dancing the night away as much as the bride and groom. Harry wished that, for once, things could’ve been easier, and he didn’t have a mass murderer to kill at some point in the next several months. He wished that he could just... Well, be. Be a normal teenage boy and dance the night away with someone of his choosing. Didn’t necessarily mean he wouldn’t spin Ginny around the floor a few obligatory times, but he still wondered if he’d be forced to admit that he no longer had feelings for the girl that everyone thought he’d eventually end up with.

Giving up on the correct adjustment of the tie—and knowing full well that Hermione or Molly would rush towards him to fix it if he’d done it wrong—he left his bedroom and went down the winding staircase, his dress robes pluming out behind him. Once he got to the bottom, he saw the impressive, bright orange, gold, and purple tent stationed in the yard, just outside the window of the kitchen, and smiled to himself. He crossed over and into the kitchen to get a better look, his eyes straying momentarily to _The Daily Profit_ , the front-page article written by Elphias Doge peering up at him from just beside the sink, which surprisingly, Molly Weasley was not using to do household dishes.

Harry stared down at _The Daily Profit_ , taking in the moving photo of Elphias Doge in his younger years, and his eyebrows raised when he noticed that it was Albus Dumbledore himself that he was standing with. As Harry read the paragraphs in the article on the front page, he gleaned that Doge and Dumbledore had been friends since entering Hogwarts, and, since Doge was stricken with Dragon Pox, was pleased that someone as charismatic as Dumbledore would even want to be his friend. Both wanted to travel the world together but, since Dumbledore’s father was imprisoned and his mother had died, it fell to Dumbledore to care for his younger siblings, brother Aberforth, and sister Ariana.

The notion that Dumbledore had a family briefly threw Harry for a moment; of course, he must have had a family, for everyone seemed to. Even though Harry’s parents were dead and the Dursley’s were less-than-pleased to be obliged to raise him, he’d had Sirius for a time, and Lupin and Tonks had always been there, not to mention Ron, Hermione, and the rest of the Weasley’s, who had begun having Harry over to their house since his second year. They had easily become his surrogate family, and Harry had fit right in with the massive mess of boys that they’d had, and things had been looking up when Harry and Ginny had become a couple just two months before Severus Snape had used the Killing Curse against Albus Dumbledore.

Harry finished reading the article and set it aside, swallowing slightly at the overwhelming amount of knowledge about one of his strongest advocates coming to light. Dumbledore had, of course, asked him fleeting questions here and there about his personal life, and had seemed delighted when Harry and Ginny began a relationship in the wake of winning a rather important Quidditch match, and he always asked after Ron and Hermione... The conversations about his summers with the Dursley’s had been few and far between, other than the cursory comments that the former headmaster had made about Harry’s obvious slender girth at the beginning of each new term, which, of course, came with the territory of being unwanted, so going underfed for three months at a time was something Harry was used to. Of course, it had been round-the-clock before he reached the age of eleven, and now he was thankful that he could spend his school term months gaining weight and strength back for whatever lay ahead.

Venturing outside and beneath the warm, summer sunshine, Harry made his way into the tent, watching as many members of the extended Weasley and Delacour families made their ways inside of the colorful fabric. He also saw many friends of the family lurking inside, newly married Remus Lupin and Tonks standing together, Remus’s head tilted downwards to hear every word his new wife said. The sun was just beginning to set over the hills around the Burrow, and Harry knew that this meant the ceremony was set to begin soon. He went to his seat in the front row, saying a quick hello to Luna Lovegood, and nodded to her father, who looked especially pleased to be acknowledged by Harry Potter himself.

“Blimey, Hermione,” Harry muttered as he took his assigned seat beside her. “How many generations do you think are here?”

Hermione flushed pink as she turned to look at Harry; she’d done her hair expertly that day, and Harry didn’t recall seeing it that lovely since the Yule Ball during their fourth year. “Um, let me think,” she said, her eyes moving around the tent, but stopped short when she saw Ron, at the back of the tent, with Arthur, Charlie, Fred, and George, all waiting to join Bill at his place beside the wizard justice of the peace.

“Looks like Percy’s not going to make it,” Harry muttered darkly, and this was enough to break Hermione’s captivated glance upon her boyfriend.

“No, he isn’t,” Hermione said quietly. “And I’m sure you’ve been wondering why Molly hasn’t been as diligent at keeping us apart. That’s why. She’s mourning the loss of a son, too into his work with the ministry to care about something as trivial as a wedding. In his eyes, not mine, of course,” she added quickly.

Harry nodded. “Ever since he hauled me into Dumbledore’s office during fifth-year, after Cho ratted the army out, I haven’t spoken to him. Ron told me he wouldn’t have minded if I clobbered him good, but...”

“It never was your style,” she said quietly to him, gently putting her shoulder against his. “I suppose that’s what so many people like about you.”

“So many?” Harry asked, the chuckle coming unbidden from his lips. “Doubt it. Remember, I might be the Chosen One, ‘Mione, but I’m certainly not as well-liked by a lot of the Wizarding World. Remember how many people are still loyal to You-Know-Who.”

Hermione sighed, lowering her eyes. “Pity they cannot be persuaded to see reason. These are dark times, Harry,” she said, cutting herself off as Ron and the rest of them stepped forward before Bill revealed himself from one of the front flaps of the tent.

Harry and Hermione watched as the rest of the company quickly found their seats as the back of the tent opened, and Ginny and Gabrielle came up the aisle together, each holding beautiful bouquets of purple irises. Fleur stepped inside a moment later, on her father’s arm, and Harry took note of Bill’s breath hitching in his throat at the sight of her. Ginny winked at Harry as she came down the aisle, and he smiled nervously at her, noting that the awkwardness of the day before seemed to be forgotten. Fleur stepped closer to Bill, and Mr. Delacour handed her off to him before going to the opposite side of the tent to sit beside his wife. Fleur and Bill joined hands, and the ceremony was off without a hitch.

. . .

Severus Snape Apparated into the murky depths of the small swamp located just beside the Burrow, the music from the wedding tent filling his ears as he automatically cursed at the notion of his black robes secreting in the muck around him. Stepping out of the shallow water and going into the tall grass, he completed a Cleaning and Drying Spell and peered through the reeds. His years of spying had taken a toll on him, yes, but the fact was that he was very good at playing a double agent; another thing he was good at was hiding in plain sight.

His target was walking by himself—an idiotic move in these times—and Snape knew that he had to get his attention, and quickly. “Potter,” he hissed through his teeth when the boy came close, and he watched as he automatically drew his wand. Snape sighed inwardly; he would have to stun the boy to keep his whereabouts unknown, and did so, before levitating him into the tall grass so that he stood across from him.

Once the spell wore off, Harry glared at his former Potions Professor, his green eyes blazing with anger at the notion that the very last time he’d seen him, he’d stunned him as well, after he’d called him a coward. _I_ ’ _m the Half_ - _Blood Prince_ , came the words readily to his mind, the notion that the man he’d been desperately thinking about for the past year, as well as his Potions Professor, who he already had a complicated relationship with, were one and the same. He’d then remembered how Snape had caught him snooping in on his conversation with Draco Malfoy after Christmas of his sixth year, and, after giving him an earful about not eavesdropping, had done something that even Harry could not comprehend.

_“Idiot boy,” Snape had hissed at him, dragging him behind a stone pillar beside a window, so as the pair of them were alone. “The Dark Lord is coming to take us all eventually, and you waste time standing in the shadows of corridors. You were invited to Slughorn’s Christmas party for the sole purpose of having fun,” he went on, his tone bitter. “Why can you not simply keep your nose out of where it doesn’t belong, and just...have...fun?” the man demanded, pulling each word slowly through his lips as if he’d wanted to make a point._

_“Having fun has never been my forte, sir,” Harry replied yanking back and away from him, his tone snappy, for he’d never gotten along with Snape since his first-year when the professor seemed to make it his mission to drag him down at every turn. “What were you discussing with Malfoy?” he asked, and the dark eyes snapped to meet his green ones. “I’ve never heard of an Unbreakable Vow...”_

_The potion master’s eyes flared at the notion that Potter had heard their conversation more clearly; for all his sneaking around, playing for both the Darkness and the Light, he realized he would have to be more careful around the boy. “That is none of your concern, or your business, Potter,” he sneered. “Our conversation in the celebration in Slughorn’s rooms just now was the only obligation I had to speak with you...”_

_“I’m surprised you even delivered the message to me at all, professor, were it not for Professor Dumbledore making it so,” he said, his tone steady, which made Snape’s teeth clench. “Is this perhaps because of the holiday spirit?” he went on. “Are you willing to bury the hatchet you’ve put between us after so long?”_

_“As I’ve said, Potter, those were the only words I intended to share with you...”_

_“Where is Professor Dumbledore traveling?” Harry asked._

_“That is also none of your business or concern,” Snape replied._

_Harry narrowed his green eyes. “Is that so?” he asked, stepping forward. “What then, pray tell, is my business, sir? Don’t tell me that every whispered conversation I hear cannot be explained by a few words. It seems to me, professor, that there is a choice for you to make. Either tell me where Professor Dumbledore is traveling or tell me what an Unbreakable Vow is.”_

_“I shall do neither, for neither concern you,” Snape said, growing annoyed. “Now, you are getting on my last nerve, Potter, and so help me, I’ll...”_

_“You’ll what?” Harry demanded. “Take house points? What're a few points to me? We don’t know where I’ll be at the end of the year, nor do you. I may not even come back. Once the blood wards are broken, I’ll be free.”_

_The notion of Harry not returning to Hogwarts for his seventh and final year jarred something within Severus Snape at that moment that he never expected to feel in his entire life. The notion that he had to continue at this play-acting, at literally pretending to hate him, was growing old, and, since the boy, young man, was sixteen, he would likely see through it soon. No, no, he mustn’t allow himself to lose control, but..._

_“Potter, you don’t mean that,” Snape said._

_He shrugged. “Why not? I’ve no parents holding me here, demanding me to stay on more than necessary. Hermione may be upset about it, but she’s a friend to me, like a sister. Sure, Ron’s parents might care, but they’ve no claim on my education. Nobody would care if I simply disappeared and went looking for the Dark Lord alone...”_

_“No!” Snape shouted then, pushing himself forward._

_“Professor, what are you—?” Harry demanded, his voice cut off then._

_Snape made a grab for the dress robes that Harry wore, yanking the young man towards him and molding his mouth to his. He noted the hesitation from his captor then, which quickly seemed to melt away, as quickly as the snow was falling behind him. Snape stiffened slightly as Potter—Harry—wrapped his arms around him, opening his mouth beneath his, a small moan escaping from his lips as he tasted his professor. Snape stepped forward then, pushing Harry up against the stone wall, and Harry braced himself up against Snape’s shoulders, wrapping his legs around his waist and molding himself against him..._

_“Sir,” he whispered, his tone breaking slightly as Snape’s senses finally returned to him, and he stared into the younger man’s eyes, dark green with desire. “Sir, please...” His voice came out as a desperate whisper; he wanted him, he could see that, but this wasn’t right, he knew that—none of this was right._

_Snape wordlessly took out his wand and watched as Harry trembled as he lifted it and aimed it at the younger man’s temple. “_ Obliviate _,” he said softly._

“What the hell are you doing here?!” Harry demanded of Snape through his teeth. His thoughts were suddenly back at the Burrow, and he could hear the wedding music coming out of the tent beyond and filling his ears.

“I’ve come to warn you,” he said, knowing that he deserved every negative word or thought from him at this point, given what he’d done to Dumbledore, and how he’d treated him on the last time they’d seen one another, and all his life, really, save last Christmas... “It’s not safe here,” he went on, and Harry’s eyes flashed in a warning.

“I don’t have the Trace on me anymore,” he said flatly, crossing his arms. “Trace breaks at seventeen. I turned seventeen yesterday.”

“I’m well aware of that, Potter,” Snape said with a sneer. “However, I should warn you that Death Eaters will swarm this place shortly—”

“What?” Harry asked. “You mean, besides you?”

Snape’s lip curled at that; yes, he knew he deserved all that and more, but actually hearing it from someone as pure and perfect as Harry... “Yes, besides me, Potter,” he said, his tone soft. “I know I’m likely the last person you want to see right now...”

“You’re right,” Harry said, moving to leave.

“Harry, just please listen...”

“ _Don’t_ call me that!” Harry said through his teeth. “You haven’t called me that before, so you sure as hell shouldn’t now!”

Snape hesitated. “I’m sorry...”

Harry shook his head. “Save it,” he said, and finally looked up into Snape’s black eyes. “Guess I wish the spell did work...”

“Spell?” he asked.

Harry scoffed. “Christmas,” he said, the word feeling heavy on his tongue as Snape looked shocked at the word. “I remember everything.”

“But...your memories,” Snape sputtered then, shaking his head. “I took your memories... I know I did...”

“You _attempted_ to take them,” Harry corrected, moving to leave. “But I suppose you taught me blocking in Occlumency pretty well. Guess I can turn it on and off at will. Sometimes I forget, and sometimes I remember,” he said, before turning around and hurrying away from him before Snape could safely call him back.

Snape slipped deeper into the tall reeds of grass, digging his hands into his shoulder-length, black hair, as he considered Christmas. No wonder Harry was angry at him; not only had he killed his trusted mentor and advisor, but he had kissed him, and he remembered it. He’d remembered it and likely resented him for taking advantage... Snape let the thoughts settle for a moment before he saw the ball of a Patronus falling from the sky. He stiffened then, feeling his arm burning, and sighed.

Knowing that there was no way out, at least not yet, Snape drew out his wand in case he needed it, and Disapparated.

. . .

“Harry!” Hermione shouted, her voice cutting through the August darkness as she spotted him, before she ran towards him and threw her arms around him, Ron just at her heels. “Where have you been?”

“Yeah, mate, we were worried,” Ron said quickly.

“Later,” Harry replied, the Patronus suddenly crashing into the center of the tent, rendering the wedding guests shocked.

 _The ministry has fallen_ , said the voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt, obviously torn up with emotion, for even though Scrimgeour had been different than Fudge, it was still an overwhelming thing to consider.. _The Minister of Magic...is dead. They are coming...they are coming_.

Harry felt something in his throat then, and he immediately felt Ron and Hermione’s hands gripping onto his own. Suddenly, the screeches of Death Eaters filled their ears, and they all but zoomed into their domain. Wands were drawn, and different colored spells whizzed past them all and filled the air with the curses and charms alike. Taking in a breath, the trio’s eyes met, just as Remus Lupin darted past them all.

“You’ve got to get out of here!” he shouted, amidst him, Tonks, the bride and groom, and the rest of the wedding party and guests running around the tent, casting spells. “Go, all of you! Go now! Get somewhere safe!” Remus hurled a slew of curses at a Death Eater, who was barely incapacitated for a moment, before launching himself to his feet, and proceeded to continue battling with him.

Harry squeezed Hermione’s hand; it was truly time to leave the safety—or lack thereof—of Ron’s childhood home. He fleetingly remembered all the good times he’d spent there, minus the ones with him and Ginny in a romantic sense, and knew that they had to go. He met his best friend’s eyes again, and the three of them Disapparated.

They landed at a familiar black iron gate, and, once they’d stepped through onto the cobblestones, the house seemed to appear automatically to the three of them. They stepped through the wards, only to be silenced immediately by the ghostly figure of Albus Dumbledore reaching for them, but he only resembled the consistency of sand. This caused Hermione to scream and Harry and Ron to plaster themselves temporarily against the front door of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.

“ _Homenum_ _Revelio_ ,” Hermione said softly, her wand already drawn. In the moment of silence that followed, the trio knew, deep down, what this meant. “We’re alone,” Hermione went on, her voice filled with a quiet determination, that both Harry and Ron knew would come to be beneficial on whatever they found on their journey.

Stepping deeper into the house, Ron and Hermione made for a couch in the living room. Harry stood off to the side, watching his two best friends cuddle up together; he knew that there wasn’t much they could do with the remainder of the evening, and besides, they likely had to come down from the shock of what had transpired at the wedding. Harry gave them a cursory glance before he said he would check out the house; his house, he reminded himself as he made his way towards the staircase, the matriarch of the Black family sneering down at him, reminding him of a certain Potions Professor.

“Slippery git,” Harry muttered through his teeth. “You likely led the Death Eaters to the Burrow, because you’re You-Know-Who’s servant. I should’ve never let you in,” he said, his voice cracking ever so slightly at the end, for he’d wanted more than anything to do just that. “Revenge is almost too good for you,” he continued, walking up the rest of the staircase. “Almost,” he said, his voice firm at the end, as he made his way to Sirius’s childhood bedroom, knowing that he would need rest to clear his head and permit himself to forget about Severus Snape and what could have been, had their lives been different.


	2. The Master of My Fate

_“Snape! He_ _trusted_ _you!” The words ripped from Harry’s throat as he tramped after his Potions Professor, for, despite his transition into Defense Against the Dark Arts, he would always associate Snape with potions. He was uncaring about the grass beneath his feet. He felt the rage dripping from him as the plume of black robes turned to face him, and, for a moment, Snape’s expression took on that of a human, but it was wiped from his face in the very next moment when Bellatrix Lestrange decided to lift her wand and throw Harry backward._

_“No!” came Snape’s voice as he turned to reprimand the fellow Death Eater. “He belongs to the Dark Lord.”_

_Harry struggled to his feet, watching as Bellatrix and Draco Malfoy disappeared into the Forbidden Forest beyond. Bellatrix had blasted Hagrid’s hut with a Fire Spell, and the smoke was gathering in the clouded sky above. Harry gripped onto his wand, wanting to throw curse after curse at this man, but found himself just staring at him, and Snape did the same._

_“How could you do it?” Harry whispered then, and Snape continued to stare at him. “He trusted you, and you just...you just...”_

_“Potter,” Snape replied, cutting him off. “I can’t...”_

_“You can,” Harry said, stepping forward, feeling his green eyes filling with earnest. “Please, Snape,” he begged. “I know there’s a good man in there somewhere...”_

_Snape sneered down at him. “You obviously don’t know anything about me then, Potter,” he said and turned to move into the forest._

_“No...” Harry whispered; he couldn’t allow him to get away. “Come back.”_

_“Can it, Potter,” Snape growled through his teeth. “I neither can nor will agree to such a pathetic request.”_

_“_ Immobulus _!” Harry shouted at him, but Snape merely sidestepped the spell and kept walking towards the first line of trees._ _“_ Incarcerous _!” he tried again, but Snape effortlessly dodged the spell and kept on walking. “_ Sectumsempra _!” Harry shouted at last, and Snape turned around then, his dark eyes blazing with rage. “Come back, you coward! Come back!” Harry yelled at him then, his voice splitting from rage._

_Snape quickly and effortlessly disarmed Harry, before he strode towards him. He grabbed him by the collar and stared down into his green eyes, which suddenly widened with fear. “You dare use my spells against me, Potter?” he asked him, in that drawl of his._

_Harry struggled against him. “You... You’re not...” He whispered._

_“Yes,” Snape replied. “_ _I’m_ _the Half-Blood Prince.”_

_Harry felt his breath catch in his throat then as he stared up at him. Despite everything, he didn’t want Snape going anywhere. Despite everything, he felt more alive than he ever had with Snape’s long fingers digging into his shirt. Despite everything, he found, at that moment, that he didn’t care that Snape had killed Dumbledore._

_“Don’t go,” he tried again, lifting one of his hands and putting it upon Snape’s face. “Please, don’t go.”_

_Snape looked as if he would change his mind; he leaned into Harry’s touch ever so slightly, but, almost as if he remembered his mission, he suddenly forced Harry from his grip. Throwing him onto the ground, shocking Harry, he merely stared down at him for a moment before turning on his heel. Almost as an afterthought, he kicked Harry’s wand from his outstretched fingers before he followed the band of Death Eaters around Hagrid’s hut and into the forest, leaving Harry to stare up at the clouds above Hogwarts, wondering what would happen next._

. . .

Harry stirred to the sound of Ron’s voice, calling out to both him and Hermione. He pushed himself out of Sirius’s bed and peered out through the ragged curtains. The clouds that blanketed the sky were pearl-white, and easily shed light on the room around him. He saw the chest of drawers pushed against one wall, and crossed over to it, pulling open the top one. Lots of miscellaneous things dotted the faux velvet surface of the drawer, but a letter stood out to him most of all within the pieces of mismatched socks, cufflinks, and other odds and ends left from his godfather to him.

Harry lifted the envelope, temporarily ignoring Ron’s shouts, and thought that Hermione could delay him for a few moments, for she was so creative. There was no return address on the envelope, nor was there a fine layer of dust covering it, like the other items in the drawer. This perplexed Harry, and as he opened it, knowing that, by all rights, he could—given that Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, and its contents, belonged to him now—and stared at the contents within, which included a folded piece of paper.

 

 _I didn’t tip them off_. _There is so much you don_ ’ _t know_. _I am a coward for not admitting those things to you_. _I am sorry about Christmas_ ; _you didn_ ’ _t deserve an old man like me doing such a thing to you_. _Please know that these things you need to know will be revealed in due time_. _I don_ ’ _t want you to ever lose hope_. _You are the hope for the Light_. _Perhaps one day we will meet again under different circumstances_.

 

“Harry.”

It was the sound of Hermione’s voice that caught him off-guard, and he quickly pocketed the letter before crossing over to the door and opening it. “Sorry,” he said, pulling a hand through his hair; he didn’t think it would be wise to bring up the letter to Ron and Hermione just yet. “Just woke up. Everything okay?”

“Ron says he found something,” she replied, looking uneasy; she could read him like a book. “I think we should see what it is,” she went on, knowing that Harry would likely disclose whatever was bothering him when it was necessary.

Harry nodded. “Right,” he replied, moving to follow her down to the other end of the hallway and around the corner, where they spotted Ron, in front of the final door. “What did you find back here?” Harry asked.

“It’s another bedroom,” Ron said.

Hermione stepped forward then, staring at the door; this door too was adorned with initials, and Harry had noticed, as they left Sirius’s bedroom that it was as well. “Regulus Arcturus Black,” she said softly, reading the words.

“R.A.B.,” Ron said, and Harry’s eyes locked with his.

Hermione lowered her eyes to her beaded bag, secured at her waist, and opened it. “ _Accio_ locket,” she said softly, and Harry and Ron temporarily stared at one another as she stood between them, and it was only when she felt their eyes on her that she lifted her head, the golden locket in her hand. “Undetectable Extension Charm,” she explained with a shrug of her small shoulders as she moved to walk downstairs. “I’ve got Harry’s cloak in here, too, plus any essentials we may need. I’ve been accumulating more and more as the days went on, after I left home, just in case...”

“You’re amazing, you are,” Ron said, grinning at her.

Hermione whirled around to face him as they reached the bottom of the stairs, and Harry quickly got out of her way. “Always the tone of surprise,” she replied, letting out a soft giggle as Ron dragged her towards him and kissed her.

. . .

Severus Snape gritted his teeth as he came to, from where he’d collapsed in his new bedroom, attached to the headmaster’s office at Hogwarts. It was always strange to him, waking up here, now that he was the one in charge of the school. It would always be seen, in his eyes, at the office and bedroom of Albus Dumbledore; at least, it had been, before he’d changed it over the summer when he’d been appointed. The red and gold colors of Gryffindor—plus other colors the former headmaster favored like violet and cerulean—had been replaced mostly with black, silver, and green, to represent Severus himself, as well as Slytherin House.

He’d managed to enchant the bedroom furniture to his liking, so now the bed frame was simple ebony, as opposed to elaborate cherrywood that Dumbledore had possessed. The curtains themselves were still velvet but were black instead of red trimmed with gold cord. As for the pictures on the walls, the four founders of Hogwarts stared silently back at him, day in and day out, while all the while Severus became convinced that they were looking at his bed style with disapproval, for they seemed to turn up their noses at the silver sheets and forest green comforter that now adorned it instead of Dumbledore’s more sumptuous colors.

Severus dragged himself out of the bed, feeling his joints popping into place as he forced himself to his feet; he felt himself wincing at the constant ache in his bones. The Dark Lord had gone into his mind the night before, after the group at the Burrow had gotten word that the Minister of Magic was dead, and he’d had to give up some memories in order to appease him. Once he’d finished, the lingering effects of the Cruciatus Curse lingered within his veins, and as he went over to his personal potion stores, to retrieve some pain potion to get him through the day, and even though he knew the Carrows would likely be patrolling things—as Death Eaters, they were firmly on the side of Darkness—he didn’t much like the notion that they were intent on forcing seventh-years to use such a curse on first-years when term began next month. He knew there would be a backlash among the student body, and that some would likely refuse; it was not a wise thing to refuse a Death Eater, for such insubordination would be reported to the Dark Lord, and he was powerless to stop any punishments that he deemed fit.

The green Wiggenweld Potion stared back at Severus from within its vial, and he quickly took its cork from its tip and downed the entirety of it. The Sleeping Draught he’d managed to sip the night before eased from his system then, and the pains he’d felt since sleep had decided to leave his senses enough to wake him vanished. He rolled his shoulders then, crossing over to towards one of his bedroom windows as he levitated the vial back into his stores, and stared outside at the pearly-white clouds that adorned the sky. Before he’d managed to arrive in the Dark Lord’s presence the evening before, he’d made a quick trip to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, to deliver something he deemed to be of the utmost importance to the former bedroom of Sirius Black, hoping beyond hope that Potter had found it. He’d put a spell on it to recognize the holders fingerprints, and if anyone but Harry attempted to open it or read it, they would be unsuccessful in both points, for it would not open for anyone, nor would it reveal the words that Snape had written to be seen for his green eyes only.

Severus swallowed for a moment as he permitted himself to consider Harry’s green eyes. They were beautiful, to say the least, and the thought caused him to shudder. He was a man now, yet why did he feel shame whenever he considered Harry in this manner? Likely because of the betrayal the man had felt when he’d witnessed his killing of Albus Dumbledore mere weeks before, at the end of the last term. Sure, he’d called him a coward in the wake of the execution, but he’d begged for him to come back, and not leave him. Perhaps he’d wanted him to stay for him; or, rather, he’d wanted to lull him into a sense of security, before sicking McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sprout on him, before Aurors or Dementors took him.

Now that he was headmaster, Slughorn had been appointed to his former position, in both respects. He was now potions professor—a position that Severus himself had inherited from him—and Head of Slytherin House. He recalled, during the few times the five of them, Slughorn, McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout, and himself, had gotten together in the weeks since his killing of Dumbledore to discuss next term, how different the four looked. While they’d been prepared to fight off anyone and anything the night he’d committed the murder, now, they were ashen, almost as if they were unwilling to even speak a word before Severus, likely because the Carrows shadowed him with every step he took. It was a miracle that he could even sleep in his own bedroom; however, now that term was due to begin in just a matter of weeks, they were already coming up with sickening punishments for the influx of students due to return. Severus suspected a diminishing amount flocking back, for, now that the Dark Lord was back with a vengeance, many Half-Blood and Muggleborns would be wary to return or even want to attend for the first time at all.

Purebloods would likely be safe, unless they were considered to be Blood Traitors, like that of the Weasley family. Severus knew that the youngest Weasley boy, Ron, would be off somewhere with Potter and Granger, doing whatever it was that Dumbledore had entrusted to them. He was also aware that the seventh and final Weasley sibling, a girl named Ginny, would be in her sixth year at Hogwarts, although he was unsure if she would make an appearance. As bright a witch as she was, her mother would likely wish to keep her home for her own protection. Severus was aware of the feelings the girl had for Potter, and remembered Potter’s confusion for them—as well as his attentions from Ravenclaw student Cho Chang in his fifth-year—and how he believed he needed to have a girlfriend, due to his status as the Chosen One.

The thought of the Chang girl or Ginny Weasley kissing or touching Harry sent Severus’s skin ablaze with jealousy. He knew it was wrong to think about the would-be Light’s savior this way, but he found he could no longer help it. Yes, he knew he’d stepped out of line at Christmas, but the notion that the boy possessed enough power to seemingly block his _Obliviate_ sent him over the brink. Such power made him feel a combination of fear and desire; never before had anyone managed to block one of him Memory Charms so expertly. The notion that someone like Potter could accomplish such a thing temporarily set him at ease for his upcoming battle with the Dark Lord; however, if he could block the charm, what else could he be capable of, and not just when it came to magic, but physically? Intimately. The very thought sent rapid chills down his spine in quick succession; the thought of possessing the boy was nearly too much to handle, and the day had only just begun.

“Dobby,” he said into the silence.

The house-elf popped into the headmaster’s bedroom then, wiggling his ears and bowing his oval-shaped head. “Headmaster Snape, sir!” he squeaked. “How may Dobby be of service to the headmaster this morning? Is breakfast in order?”

“Yes,” Severus replied, sitting in the wingback chair beside his window, where he kept a small bookshelf, mostly of potion works, so as he could stare out at the grounds beyond. “I would like a pot of coffee, plus a Full English, please,” he said, his tone level, unsure if he could even stomach the entire meal, but something had to be considered normal about him, for the house-elves would definitely talk to Madam Pomfrey if he wasn’t even attempting to get his full nutritional value.

“Shall Dobby tell the kitchens bacon or sausage this morning, sir? Or would the headmaster like to request both?” he asked.

“Both, this morning, thank you, Dobby,” Severus said.

“Of course, headmaster!” he squeaked again. “Right away!” he went on before he snapped his fingers and disappeared.

Severus sat back in his chair, his dark eyes roving over towards the window, where everything had a clean tint to it, due to the pearly clouds above. He stared outside and into the direction of the Forbidden Forest, remembering many a time when Potter and his friends inexplicably found themselves in there, despite express warnings not to go. He worried his thin lower lip, knowing that Potter would succeed, and while he wanted, more than anything, to be there to see it, and even attempt to see if the pair of them could even attempt at a friendship—if nothing else—he was unsure if it would be possible to do so.

. . .

Harry watched as Hermione read from the small piece of parchment that had been left inside the locket, which revealed it to be not the Horcrux they sought after, yet now the mystery of who had written it seemed to be at an end. It surprised Harry that Regulus Black, a Slytherin like the rest of the Black family—save for Sirius—would go against Lord Voldemort in an attempt to destroy a piece of his soul. Of course, if Dumbledore was correct, he could also trust Severus, despite his Hogwarts House and despite everything else he had done. Harry then wondered if that also included Dumbledore’s death.

“There’s that,” Ron said, pulling Harry from his reverie as Hermione finished reading. “Another mystery solved. What do we do now?”

“Well, I’ve seen a lot of cabinets around the place,” Hermione said quietly. “Muggles tend to put special items inside them, ones that they feel comfortable showing off, anyway. Harry, didn’t your aunt do that?” she asked.

Harry nodded. “Yeah,” he said quietly, his voice hoarse as he hunched his shoulders. He didn’t really like discussing the relatives who took him in by force, or the style they presented. They were unloving towards him, to say the least, and he could still feel the cowhide of Uncle Vernon’s belt as it lashed the skin of his back, legs, and front. That was the least of the abuse, that and doing most of the chores around the house, save for the heavy-duty cooking, for his aunt said that he would ruin complex dishes, and her precious kitchen and its utensils, if he even attempted to cook them. The worst of it was when Aunt Petunia would hand over the steel wool, and then inspect him after he’d showered to make sure that his skin was raw, to draw out the freakiness that plagued him...

“Harry?” Hermione asked.

Harry’s green eyes snapped to hers. “Yeah, she had them,” he replied; he’d never really told them what the Dursley’s had done; Ron knew about the bars on his window before their second year at Hogwarts, as well as their unwillingness to allow him to release Hedwig, plus the slew of names they called him—“freak” had been their favorite; that, or “little bastard”. “Lots of innocent little children playing around and such—non-magical ones, of course.”

Ron, detecting something more was going on here, but deciding not to push it, locked his eyes with Hermione’s and shook his head, knowing she would press further if allowed. He turned to face Harry then, clapping him on the shoulder. “Forget them, mate,” he said gently, and Harry nodded, knowing it would be a wise thing to do. “Not like you’ve got to go back there anytime soon, anyway,” he joked.

Harry chuckled darkly. “Thankfully,” he replied.

The rustling sounds from behind one of the doors off the kitchen caught the trio’s attention just a moment later, and it was Harry who launched from his seat to see what it was. Advancing upon the door, he grabbed ahold of the antique brass knob and yanked it open, his eyes widening ever so slightly at what he saw. Without hesitation, he made a grab for the gray, wrinkled creature within, settling him down in the kitchen, while the house-elf, to his credit, looked shocked and bleary-eyed at the exchange.

“Kreacher,” Harry said through his teeth.

“Master associates with Mudbloods and Blood-Traitors,” he said, his voice a lazy squeak, and it took all Harry could not yell at him.

“As your master, I forbid you to call either of them those wretched things again,” he said and put his hands on his hips. “They are Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger. Are we clear on that?” he demanded of his inherited house-elf.

“Yes, master,” Kreacher said quickly, bowing his head, although his demeanor and tone were anything but respectful. “Would master request anything else? Breakfast perhaps?”

“Hermione,” Harry said levelly.

Hermione snapped to Harry’s attention then, pulling up her beaded bag and muttering, “ _Accio_ locket,” before she handed it over to him.

“Do you recognize this?” Harry demanded of Kreacher, holding the amber piece of jewelry aloft, so much so that even the old house-elf could see it, though he was half-blind. “Kreacher, as your master, I order you to answer me.”

“Yes, master,” he said at last.

“Where did you last see it?” Harry asked.

“With Master Regulus, before he told Kreacher he was taking it somewhere safe,” the old house-elf told Harry as quickly as he could.

“Where was that?” Ron asked, stepping forward.

Kreacher looked slightly intimidated by Ron’s great height, and he swallowed slightly. “The Blood-Traitor who loves a Mudblood dares to ask Kreacher a question?”

“Kreacher!” Harry snapped, and the milk-white eyes of his house-elf turned back onto him. “I won’t tell you again,” he thundered, remembering his late godfather using his exact words against him, so long ago. “They are Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger to you. Now, tell master where you saw Regulus and the locket, now!”

“It was kept in Mistress Black’s special cabinet for family heirlooms, but Master Regulus believed that such a place was too dangerous, once he had turned against the Dark Lord,” Kreacher said quietly, obviously afraid of the latter. “So, Master Regulus pocketed the locket, and he took Kreacher with him to Gringotts. It stayed in the Black family vault; now that the heir to the House of Black has Kreacher as his house-elf, only he can get inside. Above all things, the goblins at your Wizarding Bank are loyal creatures, and can easily see through various forms of magic. They would not allow someone with no claim to the vault inside of it, or to even look at its contents. It was decreed on Master Regulus’s death that Master Sirius would get everything within the vault. Now that Master Sirius has left this world for the next, everything inside the vault belongs to Master Harry.”

Harry’s dark brows raised of their own accord in the moments that Kreacher explained the whereabouts of the locket, the Horcrux, rather. It was the most that he had ever heard the poor creature speak; in fact, he was surprised that Hermione did not bring up S.P.E.W. once in the few minutes that Kreacher had been in their presence. Perhaps, after all this time, she’d finally discovered a house-elf that didn’t deserve her patience, or his freedom, due to his crass and rather prejudiced behavior.

“And Regulus took you into where the vault was?”

“Yes, master,” Kreacher replied.

“And there are documents somewhere, pointing out where the vault is?”

“Yes, master,” Kreacher said, bowing again. “They are kept in the Black family safe, in Mistress Black’s bedroom, which has not been touched since her death.”

“Fetch them for me at once,” Harry told him.

“Yes, master.” Kreacher bowed then before he merely snapped his fingers and was gone in a puff of smoke.

Harry turned towards his friends. “Well?”

“Well, mate, think we can trust him?”

“After all,” Hermione said, speaking right after Ron, “he is still loyal to that damned portrait upstairs,” she went on, her voice filled with disdain. “The last thing we need is someone Apparating themselves in here and taking you...”

“That won’t happen,” Harry said grudgingly. “He may not like me, he doesn’t have to. In fact, I don’t give a shit,” Harry went on, squaring his shoulders. “The bottom line is, I’m his master now, and he’s loyal to me. I mean, Dobby was scared of Lucius Malfoy and still did his bidding for Merlin’s sake...”

“That was based on fear, mate,” Ron said quietly, while Hermione’s expression turned sad for Dobby’s former plight. “Fear is a powerful motivation to go along with something. Hate... Well, that’s motive to turn someone in.”

“He won’t,” Harry assured Ron. “Sirius was hated by him just as much, if not more than I was, and that was because he was sorted into Gryffindor. And then there’s the notion that his mother hated him...” Harry cut himself off then, a lump forming in his throat, about someone who hated _him_ , but he wanted, more than anything, not to be hated by this person. “However, at the end of the day, he was loyal to Sirius. Sirius was convinced enough that he would be loyal to me, when he passed him down to me, that is.”

“Harry,” Hermione said, her voice soft, which caused Harry’s eyes to drift towards her. “You’re not just talking about Sirius and Mrs. Black, are you?”

Harry swallowed then, lowering his eyes. “No,” he said quietly. “No, I’m not.”

“Who are you talking about, mate?” Ron asked.

Harry felt his shoulders hunching in again; it was a pose he hadn’t had to do for so long. It was the one he’d come up with in order to stiffen his body, in an attempt to distract himself from the blows of Uncle Vernon’s belt.

_“That'll teach you to leave your freakish ways outside my house, boy!” Uncle Vernon had yelled at him, the belt cracking down on Harry’s flesh, over and over again. “Why couldn’t you have been born normal, like the rest of us? Why did your godforsaken parents have to die, and why did those group of freaks leave you on our doorstep like that?!”_

_The saltwater, which Harry had always attempted to keep out of his eyes as long as possible, entered his eyes. His hands were placed, palms down, on the wall before him. He felt himself swallowing then, in an effort to distract himself. He couldn’t stop himself from crumbling; it was day in and day out, for the smallest of infractions. Maybe the bathroom hadn’t been cleaned to Uncle Vernon’s satisfaction; maybe the living room hadn’t been dusted to Aunt Petunia’s expectations; maybe Dudley’s laundry still smelled like the pig of a young man he was, which really couldn’t be helped..._

_“Well,” came Uncle Vernon’s voice, filling his ears once again, as his belt finally stopped making contact with Harry’s bare back, “it seems as if you cannot simply learn your lessons from my belt alone anymore.”_

_Harry felt himself stiffening automatically then—what other punishments could Uncle Vernon possibly come up with? His back was permanently scarred from the belt anyhow. He’d never let Mrs. Weasley see it for treatment, so the scars always were swatted again and again, until they ultimately opened up again, scarring over until the next time. He peeked over at Uncle Vernon to see what the man—if one could really call the son of a bitch that—and felt his entire body begin to tremble when he saw what his uncle was doing._

_“Uncle Vernon,” he said, his fifteen-year-old voice trembling then as he fought against the fear in his tone. “What are you...? No,” he whimpered; he couldn’t stop himself. He couldn’t be brave this time, especially not after his own uncle’s pants fell to the ground._

_“Yes,” Uncle Vernon said, his beady eyes catching the sight of Harry’s. “Don’t look at me, you fucking freak!” he yelled, grabbing Harry by the neck and slamming him, face-first, into the wall opposite him. He pulled down Harry’s trousers effortlessly, groping him for a moment, before he bared his nephew’s arse to him, and..._

_Harry gritted his teeth then, in an effort to prevent himself from crying out. The tears came down his cheeks then as he shivered; he felt himself stretching then, and his entire body trembled as Uncle Vernon pumped behind him. What kinds of sick world was this, that he would be forced to be put here with a family who couldn’t love him like they were expected to? It was all Harry had ever wanted, and now... Now it was too late..._

“Harry,” Hermione said, stepping closer, so much so that her best friend’s green eyes caught hers, and she drew back then at the haunted manner that filled them. “Harry, what else haven’t you told us?”

“Yeah, mate,” Ron said, his tone deliberately gentle. “You know that you can tell the two of us anything. We’re your best friends.”

Harry opened his mouth then, wanting to tell them, more than anything, but... “Kreacher,” he said, his tone filled with relief when the house-elf popped into view.

“Master requested the Gringotts bank vault information for the Black family, which is now Master Harry’s upon Master Sirius’s death,” he said quietly, before he bowed, handing over the yellowing folder to him, which Harry promptly handed over to Hermione.

Hermione took it. “These maps are insane,” she whispered, and Ron immediately gravitated towards her to take a look.

“Kreacher always thought so, Miss Granger,” Kreacher said quietly before his eyes went towards Harry with an odd expression. “Perhaps master would like some treacle tart.”

Harry blinked, not having fully returned to the present. “What?” he asked, stupidly.

Kreacher made a face that could only be described as a grimace of a grin. “Master Sirius took it upon himself to inform Kreacher that treacle tart was Master Harry’s very favorite thing to eat out of everything in the Wizarding World or out,” the house-elf said quietly. “Kreacher would be happy to make one for you, Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger, so as your friends may re-build their strength, and you, master, your happiness.”

“I am not unhappy, Kreacher,” Harry replied, though his tongue felt like lead.

“Of course, master,” Kreacher said, bowing. “Would master still like Kreacher to make the treacle tart for him and his friends?”

Harry sighed. “Yes, Kreacher. Thank you,” he replied, knowing that, eventually, he too would have to eat something.

“Of course, master,” Kreacher said again, and stumbled away from him, making his way to the Black family kitchen, and the door swung behind him.

“Harry.”

Harry turned to face Hermione fully then, who still stood with Ron, whose red brow was slightly furrowed as he attempted to make sense of the map of Gringotts that Kreacher had provided them with. “Yeah?” he asked her.

“Is there something we need to know?” she whispered.

Harry sighed, dragging his fingers through his hair. “In time,” he said softly, realizing he couldn’t form the words just yet. “Is that okay?”

She smiled then; the smile was a sad one. Not sad in that she wanted Harry to share the information with her in that very moment, but sad because the last thing she wanted was for Harry to be haunted from his past demons. “Of course, Harry,” she told him. “I know you’ll tell us when you’re ready.”

Harry nodded. “I need to be alone for a while,” he said quietly.

Ron looked up. “Of course, mate. You look tired.”

“Get and get some rest, Harry,” Hermione said gently. “We’ll let you know when the tart is ready. In the meantime, Ronald and I will attempt to make heads or tails of this map.”

Harry nodded, turning towards the stairs. “Don’t get too distracted by snogging,” he joked and smiled slightly when he heard his friends laugh.

He made his way up the stairs again, and returned to Sirius’s bedroom, shutting the door behind him and perching on the edge of the bed, fishing the letter from before out of his pocket. He knew full well who the scrawled handwriting belonged to, and it made his blood pump erratically just to consider it. He dared hope, for the first time, that Severus could care for him...

Turning, he looked towards the black stone fireplace that Sirius’s room housed, and walked slowly towards it. On the mantle above, moving pictures covered the shelf; the one in the middle was the picture of the Order of the Phoenix that Sirius had gifted to him just before his fifth year at Hogwarts began. Just after Sirius was killed, Remus Lupin had taken him to Grimmauld Place and permitted him to frame it and put it there. Harry smiled at the memory as his eyes drifted to the other pictures—a Black family portrait, where Mr. and Mrs. Black looked adoringly at Regulus, and Sirius, who was placed slightly off to the side, looked uncomfortable; another photo had Sirius, James, Remus, and Pettigrew, the latter of whom had been blotched out with some kind of fiery spell; another one was of Sirius and his parents, and appeared to be their wedding, where Sirius was the only guest and served as Best Man.

Harry turned his head to the side then and spotted something that any Muggle would presume to be an unassuming flowerpot. However, the dust inside was not plant soil, rather, it was none other than floo powder. Harry felt his breath hitch from within his throat then; he hadn’t noticed this the night before, and could only assume that Severus himself had provided such a thing, in the hopes of allowing him safe passage somewhere, anywhere. He raised his eyebrows then and knew exactly what he had to do, as he reached out his hand towards the pot, and took a decent handful into his palm. He pointed his wand at the fireplace then, and the flames immediately sparked up, turning a brilliant green, and he smiled to himself.

Tossing in the powder, he said, “The headmaster’s quarters, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” and stepped into the flames.

. . .

Severus found himself tired after Dobby had delivered him breakfast that morning; the pain of the night before had been at the back of his mind during his attempted sleep, and now, the thought of a painless sleep was too tempting to pass up. As his eyes grew heavy, he permitted himself this temporary luxury, hoping that the Dark Mark wouldn’t summon him away from the castle, now that he was going to get some rest.

The thought of Potter came to him unbidden, almost, and yet Severus knew, at one time or another, he would consciously think of the boy again. It was unavoidable, he saw that now, to consider the one student who he had vowed not to be seduced by. Not sexually, no, that had come later; but by Harry’s sheer influence throughout the Wizarding World, everyone seemed charmed or taken with him, insomuch that they all wanted to be his friend, his follower, his ally, and do everything in their power to ensure his happiness. Perhaps, if things had been different, and he hadn’t been the man he was, then maybe, maybe, Potter wouldn’t have minded him taking liberties that night so close to Christmas...

The crashing from his outer room set Severus on guard then and startled him from the dozing state he’d permitted himself. He leapt to his feet, his ever-present black cloak pluming around him as he muttered a Cleaning Spell, which put everything into place as he swept into the main room, wondering what the cause of the interruption was. His black eyes widened then as he saw Potter, who was now dusting himself off and greeting Fawkes, who hadn’t seem to want to leave his perch much these days.

“What do you want, Potter?” Severus demanded, crossing his arms. “Don’t you know it’s dangerous for you even to be setting foot here? As well as conversing with a Death Eater. I could turn you into the Dark Lord at any moment.”

Harry stood before Severus then and felt his green eyes blaze with courage. “You wouldn’t do that, sir,” he replied.

Severus arched an eyebrow. “How can you be sure?”

“If you were going to, you would have after my parents died—kidnapping a baby is much easier than attempting to strong-arm a grown man,” he said. “And you could’ve cursed me on the night Dumbledore died,” he continued, and Severus was shocked that Potter didn’t say that he had killed him, “but you chose not to. In fact, you stopped Bellatrix from cursing me, and merely knocked me to the ground.”

“Touché,” Severus replied. “Now, what do you want, Potter?”

“Harry. My name is Harry,” Harry replied, forcing himself to step closer.

“Fine, then. Harry,” Severus said, allowing the name to pass through his lips, and watched as the young man opposite him seemed to automatically relax before him. “How can I help you? Are you in need of a potion?”

Harry shook his head. “No.”

“All right, then,” Severus said. “May you be the first to know that I am terrible when it comes to guessing games, Harry, and, as far as I am aware, you are supposed to be in hiding or on the run...”

“I know Dumbledore told you what we were doing.”

“How do you know that?”

Harry smiled. “I’m not a complete idiot, sir,” he replied.

“That remains to be seen, Potter, for it seems to me that you’ve just walked right into the lion’s den without back-up.”

“Snake-pit, more like,” Harry said.

Severus cracked a smile at that. “Very well, then. Snake-pit. Nevertheless, you’ve come without Mr. Weasley or Miss Granger.”

He nodded. “I did.”

“Why?”

Harry squared his shoulders then. “Because I want answers,” he replied.

Severus nodded. “There is only so much I can tell you now, Harry, but I will attempt to answer as much as I can.”

“Do you swear it?”

Severus’s hands twitched, recalling the Unbreakable Vow that he had made to Narcissa Malfoy on behalf of Draco. “Perhaps...”

“I don’t want a vow from you, Severus,” Harry said quickly, using his name for the first time, and it sounded like the most beautiful thing he had ever heard in his entire life. “I just want your word that you will consider the questions I have for you, before deciding whether or not you can answer them now. Is that understood?”

Severus nodded. “Very well, Harry. Ask me your questions.”

Harry’s eyes locked with his. “And you will consider them?”

“Yes. I will consider them.”

He sighed, knowing that, at this moment, he didn’t want to be practical. He wanted to be selfish, because this had bothered him for almost a year now, and he couldn’t stop the words from coming out of his mouth. “Why did you try to _Obliviate_ me after you kissed me outside of Slughorn’s Christmas party?” he asked.

Severus immediately looked uncomfortable. “Because, I was a professor, and you are... Well, you were...”

Harry shook his head. “No, Severus,” he said, and felt a rush of something when his eyes met his once more. “I don’t want that bullshit answer, the logical one. I want...” He crossed over to him then and placed his hand over his heart, and Severus’s cheeks flamed at the touch. “I want you to tell me the answer here because I can’t take it anymore.”

He sighed. “The spell truly didn’t work...”

“If it did, I couldn’t ask you about it, could I?”

“Touché,” Severus said again.

Harry remained silent then, and the young Gryffindor’s eyes never left the older Slytherin’s. It was almost as if they were communicating silently, or attempting to, but Harry realized that this silence wasn’t getting them anywhere, and it was merely prolonging the inevitable. “I was just shocked, is all,” he said softly, and Severus blinked. “Had you spoken to me about it, I wouldn’t have reported you.”

Severus sneered before he could stop himself. “Whatever you say, Potter...”

“My name is _Harry_ , and I mean it,” Harry said, cutting across him, his voice firm. “I wouldn’t have.”

“And why not?”

“Because you drive me crazy,” Harry replied.

Severus’s breath caught in his throat then, and he slowly permitted his hands to cover the younger man’s. “Harry...”

“I’m not afraid,” he whispered. “I won’t be afraid. Not of this.”

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“My attraction for a Death Eater will likely make front-page news of _The Profit_ if Skeeter had anything to say about it, but I don’t care. I _wanted_ it to happen,” he said quietly. “I wanted you to kiss me. I deliberately provoked you that night, because I was too afraid to take the first step, because of what was done to me in the past...”

Severus’s hands tightened around Harry’s. “What was done to you?”

“Nothing I’ve ever shared with anyone, although I suspect Dumbledore knew about it,” he said softly, and looked up at the portrait, but the former headmaster, as well as all the others, was fast asleep. “I shall tell you as well, Severus, in time,” he said, and enveloped him into a hug, just wanting to smell him, whether or not he permitted it or not.

Severus even surprised himself by wrapping his arms around him, and the notion that their hearts beat as one solidified the situation. “Then I shall tell you my reasoning, in time, Harry,” he replied with a heavy sigh. He placed his lips onto Harry’s forehead, but when the younger man moved to catch his lips, Severus sighed and shook his head. “Now you must return to wherever it is you’re hiding with those friends,” he said, squeezing his shoulders. “Don’t waste your time with an old man like me...”

“You’re not an old man,” Harry replied, launching himself at Severus then, and covering his mouth with his before he could stop him, or react. Harry got down from the quick embrace and smiled up at him before he moved over to the fire. “Return to your rooms, please,” he said softly, and Severus looked confused. “My location must be kept secret.”

Severus nodded. “Of course,” he replied, and made his way back to his rooms, and shut the door behind him.

Harry grabbed a handful of Severus’s floo powder then, and the fire came alive again with just him standing there. “Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, the bedroom of Sirius Black,” he whispered into the flames, before tossing the powder, and stepped inside.

“Harry!” came Hermione’s shout the moment he was through, and he shakily got to his feet, and Ron clapped him on the back as he coughed.

“You all right, mate?” Ron asked.

Harry nodded, looking up. “Hermione...”

She smiled indulgently at him and lifted her wand. “ _Oculus Reparo_ ,” she said, and the slash in one of his lenses quickly vanished. “Where have you been?” she demanded then, the sweet manner gone.

“Nowhere,” he said quickly, and Hermione sighed, knowing that she wasn’t going to get an answer from him—today, anyway.

“Hermione’s been amazing,” Ron said quickly, changing the subject. “She’s found something else out for us.”

“Yeah?” Harry asked. “What?”

“In the documents Kreacher gave me, it itemizes everything inside the various vaults,” she told him quickly, and Harry shrugged.

“Okay?” he said, spreading his hands.

“Well, according to this,” she said, opening the folder and flipping it to the indicated page, “it also tells us what the relatives of the House of Black have in their vaults.”

Harry’s brows came together. “You’ve found something?”

“Harry, Bellatrix Lestrange is Sirius’s cousin!” she cried out.

“Not to mention she wants to kiss and do Merlin knows what to the ground that You-Know-Who walks on,” Ron went on, his tone bitter.

“Anyhow, I’m convinced that there’s something here,” Hermione went on, showing Harry the itemized list, “that could be a Horcrux.”

Harry’s eyes widened as he looked over the list. “What could it be?”

“Not like we can just show up and say _Accio_ Horcrux,” Ron said, his tone still bitter. “That’d never work. There’s got to be an angle.”

“Not to mention potential protective enchantments,” Hermione went on. “And, as Kreacher said, the goblins are loyal.”

“Meaning that they won’t just let us into her vault, because one look at me, and they’ll call the ministry, and I’ll be handed over to _him_ ,” Harry sneered, rolling his eyes. “I don’t think that she and I are related in any way either.” Harry raised his eyes to Ron then, an idea forming in his mind as it came to him.

“What?” Ron asked.

“Bill and Fleur work at Gringotts,” Harry whispered.

“Harry?” Hermione asked.

“Perhaps if they outsmart the goblins and distract them enough, we can get our goblin guide to doing what we like by simply...”

“Harry, no!” Hermione cried out. “It is an Unforgivable Curse. I know that this is for the greater good and everything, but... Ronald Weasley, what are you doing?!” Hermione screeched and watched as Ron walked over to the fire.

Ron tossed the powder into the flames. “Connect to Shell Cottage, in Tinworth, please,” he said to the fire. After a moment of waiting, he spoke again. “Bill? Fleur? You there?”

“Ron? Is that you?” came Bill’s voice, as his face appeared in the flames before Ron. “Ah, I see that you, Harry, and Hermione are safe.”

“Hi, Bill,” Harry said, lifting a hand, and nudging Hermione.

“Hello, Bill,” she said, crossing her arms.

“Blimey, you must’ve done something,” Bill said with a chuckle, turning to his youngest brother with a smile. “Mum’ll be glad you’re safe.”

“Yeah,” Ron said.

“Where are you?”

Ron shook his head. “Sorry, Bill. Can’t say.”

Bill nodded. “I understand. Are you okay?”

“We’re fine,” Ron assured him. “But we need a favor.”

“Name it,” Bill replied.

“Ronald...” Hermione began, but Harry tackled her and covered her mouth, knowing that this might be their only chance.

“How effective are you and Fleur at your jobs?”

Bill’s expression in the flames turned curious. “Pretty effective. Why?”

“We need the two of you to cause a distraction while Harry, Hermione, and I break into one of the vaults,” he admitted.

“Ron...”

“I know, it’s reckless, and Mum would freak,” Ron replied. “But this is important. We’re on an assignment from Dumbledore—all of us. We can’t tell you what it is, but he left this job for Harry to complete, and the two of us are in on it, too.”

Bill sighed. “I’ll have to talk to Fleur. We’ll let you know by the end of the week.”

“Thank you, Bill,” Harry said.

Bill’s eyes drifted over to him. “Don’t thank me yet,” he said with a smile. “I’ve still got to convince the wife that this is for the greater good,” he said, adding that last part quietly before he lifted a hand to them and disappeared into the smoke.

“She’s as much a fairy princess as I am,” Hermione said, quoting Barty Crouch, Jr. when he had possessed the body of Mad-Eye Moody and had spoken to Harry about Fleur, before the First Task of the Triwizard Tournament. “She’ll see.”

“Let’s hope so,” Harry said, as Ron turned to look at them both. “Because, if Fleur refuses to help us, then I don’t know what else we’re going to do.”


	3. I Never Needed Anybody In My Life

Harry awoke the following morning to another cloudy day in Islington, except the clouds this time were a pale gray. Trying to dissuade himself from thinking the most ominous thoughts, he pulled himself from Sirius’s old bed, whispering, “ _Tempus_ ”, and his wand revealed that it was just past six. Sighing, he walked into the adjoining bathroom for a shower; the steam filled the tiled room quickly, and he felt as if the hot water was taking the knots out of his back.

It was in the shower that Harry considered Severus, for the first time since the older wizard had invaded his dreams the night before. In the dreams, they were outside Slughorn’s Christmas party, except this time, Harry had knotted his fingers into his former potion master’s hair. He was surprised at the silky sensation and wondered why the rumor had begun that his hair was greasy in the first place. The raven locks tangled in his fingers, and he knew that it was tolerated as the Slytherin had moaned into his mouth, pressing his mouth fervently to his, as Harry and Severus’s tongues engaged in an intimate dance.

Harry lowered his eyes then, a flush forming on his cheeks as he considered his dream fully, and was suddenly aware of the erection which poked forth between his legs. He gritted his teeth, and knew full well that it couldn’t go on like this; sooner or later, he would have to inform Ron and Hermione of his preferences, as well as claim Severus for himself. Someone as amazing as he was wouldn’t be available for long; Harry knew full well that whatever was between them would not cease to go away until or unless something was done about it. Perhaps that was why Severus had casted _Obliviate_ onto him in the first place. Could it be that he wasn’t interested in some form or other of a relationship with him at all, and that was solely the reason why he refused to tell him anything?

Harry bit down, hard, on his lower lip, at the notion that, perhaps, Severus merely wanted to distract or possibly weaken him from his upcoming journey. The very thought, that after all the long-lasting looks, or the words passed between them, that hate was the only emotion that the potions master could feel for him. He thought that they were past this; however, the doubts that suddenly filled his mind made him sick, and as he reached for his engorged cock, stroking it ever so slightly—unknowing where the shower water ended and his tears began—he thought of all the pain he’d gone through in his lifetime, and the rejection he felt he could be feeling from Severus Snape was nearly enough to push him over the edge.

Harry shut his eyes then, allowing his hand to wrap fully around his erection, thinking of Severus’s smoldering black eyes, his wisps of raven hair, and that voice...oh, that voice. How many times had he considered that voice, and his mouth had automatically gone dry, the wetness threatening to creep out of his cock? With his free hand, Harry gripped onto the wall beside him and mulled over the various words that Severus had spoken to him over the years. Of course, he found himself going back to his rather sinfully delightful performance on the night of Slughorn’s Christmas party...

 

_“Where is Professor Dumbledore traveling?” Harry asked._

_“That is also none of your business or concern,” Snape replied._

_Harry narrowed his green eyes. “Is that so?” he asked, stepping forward. “What then, pray tell, is my business, sir? Don’t tell me that every whispered conversation I hear cannot be explained by a few words. It seems to me, professor, that there is a choice for you to make. Either tell me where Professor Dumbledore is traveling, or tell me what an Unbreakable Vow is.”_

_“I shall do neither, for neither concern you,” Snape said, growing annoyed. “Now, you are getting on my last nerve, Potter, and so help me, I’ll...”_

_“You’ll what?” Harry demanded. “Take House points? What’s a few points to me? We don’t know where I’ll be at the end of the year, nor do you. I may not even come back. One the blood wards are broken, I’ll be free.”_

_The notion of Harry not returning to Hogwarts for his seventh and final year jarred something within Severus Snape in that moment that he never expected to feel in his entire life. The notion that he had to continue at this play-acting, at literally pretending to hate him, was growing old, and, since the boy, young man, was sixteen, he would likely see through it soon. No, no, he mustn’t allow himself to lose control, but..._

_“Potter, you don’t mean that,” Snape said._

_He shrugged. “Why not? I’ve no parents holding me here, demanding me to stay on more than necessary. Hermione may be upset about it, but she’s a friend to me, like a sister. Sure, Ron’s parents might care, but they’ve no claim on my education. Nobody would care if I simply disappeared and went looking for the Dark Lord alone...”_

_“No!” Snape shouted then, pushing himself forward._

_“Professor, what are you—?” Harry demanded, his voice cut off then._

_Snape made a grab for the dress robes that Harry wore, yanking the young man towards him and molding his mouth to his. He noted the hesitation from his captor then, which quickly seemed to melt away, as quickly as the snow was falling behind him. Snape stiffened slightly as Potter—Harry—wrapped his arms around him, opening his mouth beneath his, a small moan escaping from his lips as he tasted his professor. Snape stepped forwards then, pushing Harry up against the stone wall, and Harry braced himself up against Snape’s shoulders, wrapping his legs around his waist and molding himself against him..._

_“Sir,” he whispered, his tone breaking slightly as Snape’s senses finally returned to him, and he stared into the younger man’s eyes, dark green with desire. “Sir, please...” His voice came out as a desperate whisper; he wanted him, he could see that, but this wasn’t right, he knew that—none of this was right._

 

While he hadn’t had the courage to do so then—due to being so scarred from Uncle Vernon’s past abuse of him—Harry knew full well what he would have done then. He would’ve taken the initiative, somehow, and slammed Severus against the wall behind him. He would’ve claimed his mouth, capturing it, never permitting himself to let go, even for air. The notion that he was literally standing in the shower, the hot water pumping upon his naked back, pleasuring himself to the notion of the Hogwarts headmaster ultimately taking him, fully, completely, a man who, other that Lord Voldemort, was supposed to be his greatest enemy, he found that he no longer cared about such a thing. He wanted him, desperately, and he didn’t know how he would stop himself from taking no for an answer, if that was what Severus’s answer was.

Harry doubled over then at the thought of Severus entering him, pinning him up against a wall, caressing his cock as he did so, while all the while planting gentle kisses on his neck. Harry dragged his tongue over his lower lip, waiting for the moment when he could, finally, taste Severus and himself there, co-mingled, sweet... He wanted this; he wanted this more than anything, and as his come seeped through his splayed fingers, he found it would be all he thought of for a very long time.

. . .

“I’ve told you before, Severus, the boy must know everything, but you must wait until the Dark Lord is at his most vulnerable,” the portrait of Albus Dumbledore said softly to Severus, bowing his white head. “I told you as much when your potions kept the curse of Marvolo Gaunt’s ring to my hand, in the months before you killed me.”

“He is a man now, Albus,” Severus said quietly. He had cast a Silencing Charm upon the door to the headmaster’s office, as well as around the other portraits. He didn’t want to risk the Carrows or other Hogwarts staff hearing, and he certainly didn’t want the other older headmasters to weigh in on their conversation. “You cannot refuse to tell a man if he wants to know certain things; a boy, yes. A man, no.”

Albus sighed. “You informed me that you cared for the boy because of Lily...”

“Not because of Lily,” Severus whispered. “It was never about Lily.”

“You loved Lily,” Albus said simply, spreading his hands. “A select few know this about you, Severus, and although you wished to keep it under wraps...”

“I loved her as a friend, or perhaps a sister. Much like the friendship of Potter and Granger, it seems,” Severus said, his tone a slight snap. “You don’t seem to understand.”

Albus Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled from above his half-moon shaped glasses. “I believe I understand your meaning, Severus.”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean, old man?”

“I was young once, too.”

“What are you talking about?” he demanded; one thing he did not miss about the former headmaster was the fact that he spoke in riddles.

“I met someone when I was very young, just before my sister was killed,” Albus said softly then, and there was something about the tone of his voice that made Severus listen. “I was young and I was foolish, and my brother Aberforth wished to bring me back down to earth. But I had great ideas, or so I thought, and this person was wonderful, because he shared my ideals. We spoke often and at length about them, while all the while, I found myself falling in love.”

“Albus...”

“And it wasn’t enough; we longed to be by each other’s side every moment of every day. While all the while I had my younger siblings to take care of, and all I thought was about him,” Albus continued softly, and Severus’s ears pricked up at that. “All I thought of was re-shaping the world into our image, where wizards would be more powerful over Muggles, and how he and I would rule together. But all I wanted, all I truly hungered for, was him, and finally, one night, we succumbed to our desires, and I became blind to all that was happening around me. The planning very nearly stopped, for we could not get enough of one another, until one day, my brother had enough. We engaged in a duel, and the casualty was the greatest I could ever imagine—the death of my little sister.”

Severus felt his insides twist in pain at Albus’s loss. “I am truly sorry,” he whispered, never having known the love of a true sibling, although Lily certainly came close, he was quite positive about that.

“Many people assumed that Grindelwald and I were merely friends,” he went on, and Severus raised his eyebrows at the notion that Albus finally named his lover. “But that was not the case, and it is a secret I carried with me. Aberforth... He believed he was doing what was right. He wanted to leave Hogwarts and bring up Ariana on his own, but I told him he would need to finish his education, and only then could he decide for himself. My brother wanted none of it, and so he took out his rage on myself and my lover. When looking into his mind later on, I discovered that he wished to kill him, and then Obliviate me somehow, so that we could just be the three Dumbledore children once again. However, the catastrophe of that day remains with me, as does the notion that I took such a dark wizard into my bed. My dear Ariana, who favored Aberforth over me—due to his poisoning her against me, because I happened to fancy the same gender instead of the opposite one—was caught in the crossfire, and the family was fractured. I left soon after her death, but not before Aberforth broke my nose, believing the entire thing to be my fault, although I never used a curse that could kill that day.”

“What spells were used?” Severus asked.

“ _Expelliarmus_ , if anything, from me,” Albus said quietly. “All I wanted was happiness for me, and for my siblings. That was all I wanted; I wanted them both to be happy. And now I am dead and my brother, embittered, runs the Hogs Head Inn,” he said.

“Did you two reconcile?”

Albus sighed. “We’ve spoken, over the years,” he said with a small shrug. “He allowed me to conduct sensitive matters at the inn, when the opportunities arose. But he never solicited personal information from me, and I did the same in that regard towards him. There was no great love between us, Severus.”

“I am sorry,” Severus said softly.

“But you,” Albus said, smiling again, “I know you have a great love. Or, at least, you want to have one. You’ve had people in your bed throughout your life, Severus, but you never opened your heart to any of them.”

He shook his head. “I’ve been a double-agent for years, Albus. It would not have been fair to anyone I slept with. And besides, I never met anyone I liked until...”

“Harry,” Albus interrupted, and watched as Severus’s cheeks turned pink. “Don’t be ashamed of wanting love, Severus.”

“It is not love...”

“Severus, if there was never anything you could do with me, it was tell me falsehoods. I always saw right through you when you swore to me that you were no Death Eater. But, now that I am dead, I feel I should tell you, your lying skills, towards me, at least, haven’t improved sufficiently enough to be fully opaque.”

Severus chewed his bottom lip. “What if Potter does not want...?”

“That is not something you must ask me, Severus,” Albus replied. “This is something you must ask Harry directly. Speaking in riddles is not something you inherited from me, my boy. Now you must go forth with the information carefully. If it will not distract Harry from his journey to kill You-Know-Who, then, by all means, inform him of it. If you do not, the boy will think you are rejecting him, and you will lose him.” Albus hesitated for a minute, a fleeting moment of pain streaking through his eyes. “Do not live in fear as I did, Severus. Seize any moments you can with him and permit yourself to love, and love fully.”

Severus smirked. “And here I thought you were a Gryffindor.”

Albus blinked. “I was.”

“But you just said you had no courage...”

“No courage to do what wasn’t conventionally accepted in my youth, Severus. The Wizarding and Muggle Worlds are much different than they were in the late-1890’s. All I can tell you, my boy, is do not lost hope.”

“Hope,” Severus muttered.

“Yes, my boy. Hope. Something that you must hang onto, for now, until you and Harry come to the conclusion that there is love between you.”

Severus lowered his eyes. “How can you be sure that he even...?”

“You can’t,” Albus said simply. “Which is why you must ask him yourself.”

Severus opened his mouth to speak again, but shut it immediately when Albus’s eyes grew heavy and he sank back into the chair inside his portrait. He leaned against the headmaster’s desk and considered Harry for a moment, knowing that he would have to come clean, eventually, about the lingering feelings within him. For so many years, the boy—the young man—had believed that Severus had hated him. How long did he have to prove him wrong?

. . .

Harry sat with Ron and Hermione at the long table in the dining room; he perched on the edge of the chair at the head of the table, for Kreacher had informed him that, as the new Master of Grimmauld Place, it was his right to sit there. Ron sat to his right, and Hermione to his left; while Harry’s thoughts drifted to Severus once again that morning, Ron kept on making loving eyes at Hermione, while she, meanwhile, kept her bushy brown head bent over one of the many books she’d stolen from the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts Library, which she’d retrieved just after Dumbledore’s funeral. Harry lifted his head slightly, his fingers twisting over the other in his denim-covered lap, as Kreacher stepped in just moments later, carrying a tray with a soup tureen filled with steaming porridge, a bowl of brown sugar, a dish of honey, and a pint of cream surrounding the massive silver dish.

“Master and his friends must keep their strength up,” Kreacher informed him, setting the tray upon the table, before snapping his fingers, bowls and spoons appearing just before each person, and Hermione let out a squeak when it covered the page she was reading. “Perhaps Miss Granger can leave the reading for a few moments, and eat?” Kreacher asked, his voice far gentler towards her than it had been in days past.

“Yes, of course,” Hermione said quickly, shooting Kreacher a small smile as she levitated the bowl for a moment, and set her books aside.

Kreacher snapped his fingers again, and, in a moment, each bowl was filled with the white, steamy stuff, and the spoons for the honey and sugar came up as well. “Just tell the spoons what you want, and tell the cream to come, if you wish it,” the house-elf said softly. “Kreacher must see to the living room.” He snapped his fingers one last time, and two steaming pots arrived, one filled with tea, the second with coffee, and each of the trio had a mug, plus a bowl full of white sugar lumps, and a bowl of milk. “Kreacher will be cleaning if you have need of him, Master Harry,” he said, before snapping his fingers and disappearing.

“Go ahead,” Harry said quietly, nodding at Ron, who looked ready to take a bite from the table, he looked so hungry.

“Thanks, mate!” Ron said, and summoned the bowl towards him, pouring his helping of porridge into it, before nodding for it to go to Hermione. “Still no word from Bill yet,” he went on, nodding for the sugar and cream, and putting in more and more, until Hermione hissed at him, and, turning red to his ears, turned it over to her. “Either he’s asked Fleur already, or he’s waiting it out until she’s in a good mood.”

Hermione swore under her breath, before she turned to face Harry, relieved that he was actually making an effort to eat. “Honestly, Ronald, we women aren’t the complex creatures you believe us to be,” she said, fighting to keep her tone civil as she stirred sugar and a bit of cream into her breakfast bowl. “Usually, if you ask nicely enough, we’ll weigh the pros and cons out before we’ll give you an honest answer. If you don’t happen to like the answer we give, that’s your issue, not ours.”

“Blimey, Hermione, you make it seem as if Fleur wouldn’t be willing to help us at all,” Harry said quietly, speaking for the first time, amid forcing himself to eat. “I know she’s French, but I thought that she and I were friends...”

“A life for a life, maybe,” Ron muttered over his steaming bowl. “You saved Gabrielle during the Triwizard Tournament.”

Hermione’s teeth appeared to clench from within her jaw then, and her hand very nearly bent the spoon she was holding in half. “Unless you want to find yourself another girlfriend, Ronald, perhaps you could attempt to not consider Fleur snogging you in front of me. It was almost as bad as when you snogged Lavender in front of me...”

“Hermione, I’ve given you something I’ve never given other girls,” Ron protested then, and Harry got to his feet at that, his breakfast halfway finished.

“I’m done eating,” he said, and moved to leave the kitchen.

“Ronald Weasley!” Hermione shouted, getting to her feet, her own breakfast nearly done, as she went after Harry, gripping a book in her hand. “Harry,” she said desperately, running after him, and Harry turned around, seeing that she was also carrying the documentation and itemization of the Black family and their relatives’ vaults from the Gringotts Bank. “I seem to have come across something in one of the books.”

“Yeah?” Harry asked. “What did you find?”

“Well, the Horcruxes must’ve pertained to Hogwarts somehow—there must be a connection, anyway,” Hermione said breathlessly. “Dumbledore said so, didn’t he?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah. He mentioned that.”

“Well, I was thinking that they could pertain to the founders of Hogwarts,” she said, her eyes shining in a moment of joy. “So, I cross-referenced my copy of _Hogwarts: A History_ to see if, perhaps, anything that the founders particularly loved was mentioned...”

“Did you find anything?” Harry asked.

She nodded. “I did. The Sword of Gryffindor, of course. Then there’s Rowena Ravenclaw’s diadem, which could be one, but I didn’t find out much about it. Then the locket belonged to Salazar Slytherin, which we already knew...”

“Which leaves something to do with Hufflepuff,” Ron said, stepping into the hallway outside the kitchen, an apologetic expression on his face.

Hermione sighed. “Good process of elimination, Ronald,” she muttered, although Harry could see the smile in her voice as she flipped through the book, opening it to a page of a moving portrait of Helga Hufflepuff, who smiled kindly upon whoever looked at her, and Harry took it to mean that there was one section dedicated to each founder of Hogwarts within the book. “Helga Hufflepuff had a cup,” Hermione continued, before handing the book to Ron, who gazed at the portrait himself, as Hermione flipped through the documentation Kreacher had provided for them the day before, and opened it upon one of the itemization pages. “Helga Hufflepuff’s Cup is mentioned in the things that Bellatrix Lestrange has in her vault!” she cried out then, her eyes rising to Harry’s. “Which means that it could very well be a Horcrux!”

“You’re brilliant, Hermione!” Harry shouted then, feeling a bit of happiness then as he threw his arms around her. “Of course it would be in her vault!”

“She’s in love with You-Know-Who, no question,” Ron said, as Harry let Hermione go. “He’d likely take that as a form of loyalty...”

“Meaning that he’d trust her to keep something that precious in her vault,” Hermione said, and nodded, grinning from ear to ear. “Now that we’ve got the information about the locket and the cup, all we need is Bill and Fleur’s help to get it.”

“And a way to get into the second vault,” Harry said quietly.

Ron sighed. “Harry’s right. They’ll let us into Sirius’s vault without a problem, as he stipulated in his will—which should’ve been forwarded to the ministry and the bank—that Harry would receive all the Black family holdings. Since Harry’s not related to the Lestrange bunch, it’ll be difficult, if not damn near impossible, for him to get in. Unless Bill and Fleur distract everyone, and we use the Imperius Curse on our goblin guide...”

“ _No_ ,” Hermione said, her dark eyes turning on Ron, her voice firm.

“...which we would never do,” Ron said quickly, “because it is an Unforgivable Curse, and goblin’s deserve the same rights as witches, wizards, and Muggles alike.”

“We’ll figure out a way,” Harry said, a plan forming in his mind, but, like so many other things, he wasn’t sure it was the right time to unveil it. Just as he was about to say something else, he sensed someone outside, wandering through the wards. “ _Accio_ invisibility cloak!” he shouted then, and it came flying out of Hermione’s beaded back. “Get under!” he hissed, and, although Ron and Hermione were reluctant to do so, due to their sizes, it was better than no protection from the outside world at all.

“That was my foot, Ronald!” Hermione hissed through gritted teeth.

“I’m sorry, ‘Mione,” Ron replied, annoyed.

“Quiet, both of you!” Harry said softly to them both, maneuvering them so as they faced the front door of the house. His heart entered his throat then as the door came open then, and a man stood in the shadows of the morning, before stepping inside, and shut the door behind him, the front hall light illuminating his face. “Remus!” Harry shouted, and he threw off the cloak, and dashed over to him, launching himself into his adoptive godfather’s arms. “You’re safe! You and Tonks got out!” he cried.

Remus grew stiff in Harry’s arms then, something the trio noticed, and Harry immediately got down and looked up at him. “Yes. We made it out.”

Hermione stepped forward, drawing Harry back and staring at him, drawing her wand just in case, and Remus did the same. “What did Remus Lupin and Sirius Black call me during my, Harry’s, and Ron’s third-year at Hogwarts?” she asked.

Remus smiled slightly. “We both called you the brightest witch of your age,” he said without hesitation, and Hermione smiled at that. “What creature did Harry Potter and Hermione Granger steal to aid Sirius Black?”

Hermione nodded; with Sirius and Albus Dumbledore dead and Harry already accounted for, nobody else would know for sure about this other than them. “Buckbeak the Hippogriff,” she said softly to him.

Remus lowered his wand then, as Hermione did herself, and sighed, dragging a hand through his disheveled hair. “Mind if I sit?”

“Of course!” Harry said, putting one of Remus’s arms around his shoulders and guiding him into the living room, where he noticed Kreacher was no longer cleaning. “Do you want anything? A cup of tea, perhaps?”

“No, no. Not yet, anyway,” Remus replied, allowing Harry to put him down upon one of the living room couches. He turned to him then as he sat beside him, his eyes filled with sadness and remorse.

“Remus, what’s going on?” Hermione asked, her tone tentative as she and Ron stepped into the living room, moving to share the love seat opposite the couch. “The three of us can tell that there’s something the matter...”

“Don’t pressure him, ‘Mione,” Ron said gently.

“You’re not, don’t worry,” Remus replied, raising his eyes towards them, his sad smile returning to his lips. “Don’t worry,” he said again.

“So, we shouldn’t worry,” Harry said, watching as Remus’s eyes drifted back towards him, “but there’s still something wrong?”

Remus hesitated before replying, “In a nutshell, yes.”

“Did someone not make it out of the Burrow in time?” Ron asked, his mind immediately going to his family, for Bill had only been forthcoming about himself and Fleur. “Did we lose someone else?”

Remus shook his head. “As far as I know, everyone managed to get out of the Burrow. Some were questioned, but everyone was allowed to go free.”

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief; she may have thought that Fleur Delacour was a bit full of herself—due to her beauty—but, at the end of the day, she would never wish her ill. “That’s good to know,” she said softly.

“Remus,” Harry said, now that they had the information that everyone had lived after the attack after Bill and Fleur’s wedding, “please. Tell us what happened.”

“Yeah, and why isn’t Tonks with you?” Ron asked.

“Tonks!” Hermione squeaked, knowing all about the young Auror’s pregnancy, and was suddenly worried for her friend. “Is she all right?”

Remus sighed. “When I left her, she was, yes.”

“When you left her?!” Harry demanded then, his teeth on edge immediately, suddenly understanding the meaning behind Remus’s remorseful demeanor, and body language. “What the hell do you mean, when you left her?!”

“Harry...” Hermione tried.

“No!” Harry snapped, giving Hermione a look of warning before turning back to Remus, feeling his entire body become a bundle of rage. “What do you mean, Remus?! Tell me.”

Remus sighed. “You’re right to be angry, Harry, but if you would just listen...”

Harry crossed his arms. “I’m listening,” he said, his tone bitter nevertheless, for he couldn’t even begin to comprehend his adoptive godfather’s logic behind leaving his wife.

Remus sighed. “Well, you are aware that she is pregnant...”

Harry nodded stiffly. “We are.”

“Well, it all just hit home after the wedding,” Remus replied, his voice desperate, almost as if he wanted everyone to come over to his side on this matter. “I just... I couldn’t allow myself to think about this child, Harry.”

Harry blinked. “I don’t understand.”

Remus scoffed, getting to his feet and proceeding to pace around the living room. “No, I don’t suppose you would. Your parents didn’t leave willingly, Harry; I did. I didn’t want to, but I had to leave...”

“Had to?!” Harry demanded, his hackles rising then as he leapt to his feet. “What the hell do you mean you had to leave?!” He grabbed Remus by the shoulder then, effortlessly whipping him around and glaring at him. “Explain,” he ground out. “Now.”

“The child has my blood, Harry,” Remus said to his adoptive godson then, his voice a combination of devastation and rage.

Harry shook his head. “Your blood? What would that matter...?!”

“Not the blood he was born with, Harry, although I’m sure the child will have some of that. He means the blood he has now,” Hermione said softly.

“Exactly,” Remus replied, dragging his hands through his hair. “I did the most selfish thing imaginable by marrying Tonks—I’ve ruined her. And I’ve also ruined the child she carries, because that child... I’m sure it will be like me.”

“Remus, you can’t know that,” Harry said quietly.

“Don’t try to make this better with words of wisdom, Harry!” Remus shouted bitterly, narrowing his eyes at him. “I’ve singlehandedly impregnated Tonks with a monster!”

“You haven’t!” Harry yelled.

“I have!” Remus yelled back. “And you wouldn’t understand, Harry, because you’ve never known true, monstrous pain—!”

“The hell I haven’t!” Harry roared, the words tearing out of his throat before he could make an effort to call them back. “You hardly know anything about me, Remus, as I’ve elected to keep it under wraps since I was fifteen! I was raped, Remus, raped!” he cried out then, and Hermione gasped from beside him, while Ron got to his feet, and Remus stared, unblinking, at him. “I was raped by my uncle for being a freak! I was branded a freak from the time I could crawl. When Uncle Vernon figured that his belt didn’t suffice for proper punishment, then he would slam me against the wall and do unspeakable things to me!”

Remus tensed from opposite Harry. “Did... Did Dumbledore...?”

“Did he know?” Harry barked, a bitter laugh escaping his throat. “I’m sure he did, yeah. I tried to tell him about the pain and suffering I went through during the summers, but he never wanted to hear it, all because of those godforsaken blood wards.” He shook his head then, cutting off Remus before he could try and speak again. “Don’t. Just don’t.” Harry bit down hard on his lower lip, recalling the pain as he remembered it, almost as if he was being ripped from the inside out, the blood never-ending. “Get upstairs to one of the bedrooms, Remus. I’ll instruct Kreacher to listen out for you if you want anything.”

“Harry...”

“UPSTAIRS NOW!” Harry yelled, turning away from Remus then, and stiffened when he touched his shoulder, and shrugged it off. “I said ‘now’,” Harry said, his voice deathly calm in the next moment, and he breathed a sigh of relief when he heard him heading out of the living room and up the stairs.

“Harry...”

Harry sighed, Hermione’s voice calling him back to earth then as he turned to face her. “Look, I know I should’ve told you as soon as it happened...”

“We don’t care about that, mate,” Ron said, moving forward and gently pulling Harry into his arms, which Harry accepted—his first true friend, other than Hagrid. “We’re just glad you told us now.”

“Harry, we’re so sorry,” Hermione said, and when Harry craned his neck to gaze at her over Ron’s shoulder, he could see the tears in her eyes. “If we’d known, maybe we could’ve gone to Dumbledore...”

“I know my mum and dad think of you like theirs, mate,” Ron assured him, pulling back, and keeping his hands on Harry’s shoulders. “Their words might’ve done something with Dumbledore...”

Harry sighed, shaking his head. “It’s over now,” he replied, smiling slightly then. “I never have to go back, or see them again...”

“That’s not the point, Harry,” Hermione said quickly. “It shouldn’t have happened in the first place, and I’m appalled that Dumbledore did nothing.”

Ron sighed. “Well, whether it should’ve happened or not, it is over, mate.”

“Anything else you want to tell us?” Hermione asked, dashing the tears from her eyes, before she stepped forward and kissed Harry’s cheek.

He swallowed then; the time was now, and whether he wanted to or not, he knew it was high time he told his best friends this. “I’m gay.”

Ron’s eyes widened. “What?”

“I’m gay,” he repeated.

Hermione smiled then, her eyes shining even more than they had when they realized that Bellatrix Lestrange was in possession of Helga Hufflepuff’s Cup. “So, that was why you were so awkward with Ginny at the Burrow,” she said quietly.

Harry nodded. “Yeah.”

“Well... When did you know?” Ron asked.

“Ronald!” Hermione screeched. “That’s rude!”

“No, it’s fine,” Harry assured her, putting up a hand. “I had a vague idea of it after Slughorn’s Christmas party...”

“But... But you and Ginny...” Ron began.

Harry nodded. “I know, Ron,” he said softly. “Guess I just thought it made sense. The Boy Who Lived finally gets with the girl who’s supposedly loved him for years. It made sense, at the time, being with Ginny. I know it was selfish of me, to lead her on like that—only if it was just for a few weeks—but I was really confused.”

“You said it was after Slughorn’s Christmas party,” Hermione said quietly. “Did something happen to make you draw that conclusion?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah. I kissed someone.”

“Blimey, mate! Who was it?” Ron asked.

Harry wetted his lips then, unsure, but ultimately knew that he would have to trust the both of them to be supportive. “Severus.”

“As in _Snape_?!” Ron demanded.

Hermione swatted his arm again. “Honestly, Ronald, you need to keep your temper,” she chastised him before turning to Harry. “I’m sure you can understand how shocked we are by the second part of your declaration, Harry.”

Harry smirked. “Yeah. I was pretty shocked when we kissed,” he replied.

“What was it like?” Ron asked.

Harry blinked, surprised that Ron was okay with hearing about it. “Different,” he said softly then, and he shook his head. “I don’t know why I’m getting these conflicting feelings... I mean, he killed Dumbledore, and he’s a Death Eater, but...”

“But you care about him,” Hermione said softly. “Well, as long as he doesn’t attempt to hand you over to You-Know-Who...”

“We’re all right with it, mate,” Ron said with a smile. “Just, please. It’s still Snape. Just be careful about it, you know?”

Harry nodded. “I think that’s the idea,” he replied.

. . .

Once Harry and Remus got on the same page, and Harry urged Remus to return to Tonks, things were quiet until the following day, when Ron received a fire call from Bill, informing the trio that he and Fleur were in with helping them. Harry went to sleep that night, feeling slightly relieved, although still nervous, for only half the plan was formed. He tossed and turned that night in Sirius’s old bedroom, finally falling to sleep sometime after midnight. When dawn broke, the sky was pink, and Harry forced himself out of bed and into the shower. When his mind lingered to Severus once more, he gritted his teeth.

“Fuck it,” he muttered.

He dashed back out into Sirius’s bedroom then, dressing quickly and tossing some Floo Powder into the fireplace, which suddenly turned green and roared to life. “Headmaster’s office, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” he said, and stepped into the flames without any form of hesitation. In a moment, he tumbled out into the office on the other side, and muttered “ _Tergeo_ ,” to himself, before he raised his eyes. He wandered towards Severus’s bedroom, and rightly assumed that he was still asleep, and said, “Alohomora,” under his breath, before he stepped inside.

“Severus,” he said, and shut the door behind him.

Severus stirred from beneath his blanketed, before his eyes opened and regarded Harry, who stood just inside his bedroom. A smirk came over his face then as he considered the situation handed to him. “I think I would remember inviting you into my bedroom, Harry,” he said as he pushed back the blankets and got to his feet, wordlessly summoning a black robe to cover himself, although Harry found he wouldn’t have minded the long, black nightshirt he wore, which showed off his beautiful legs.

“Dumbledore trusted you,” Harry said quietly.

Severus inclined his head at that. “Yes. He did.”

He sighed, squaring his shoulders then. “Can I do the same?” he asked him, his voice raising an octave, greatly daring. “I mean, I know you’re a Death Eater and all, Severus, but, I don’t believe that Dumbledore was a stupid man...despite everything.”

Severus sighed then, cautiously stepping forward. “You can trust me, Harry,” he replied, his tone soft, and not at all malicious. “Who hurt you?”

“My uncle,” Harry replied.

Severus blinked. “And Dumbledore knew of this?”

“I believe so, yeah,” Harry said softly, and a slight gasp escaped his lips as Severus came towards him then, and pulled him into his arms, and he felt himself relaxing almost immediately as he settled into them. “Of course, I can never know for sure. Whenever I tried to bring up what happened...the assaults,” he said, whispering the word, but he knew Severus had heard, for he tightened his grip around him and swore under his breath, “he would always change the subject to something else. He always said we had much to discuss, that final year, and he said we could not be afforded any distractions.”

“I am sorry for this, Harry,” Severus whispered.

Harry pulled back slightly, permitting his green eyes to meet Severus’s black ones. “What are you sorry for, Severus?”

“For everything,” he replied. “All of it. For my treatment of you all these years. For keeping you in the dark, when you deserve to know everything. For killing Dumbledore, although you must understand, I did not do it to be malicious. I never fancied myself as a headmaster, and I hope you can understand that.”

Harry sighed, climbing with his fingers along the buttons of Severus’s robes. “Well, I’ll trust you to tell me when you deem it to be appropriate,” he replied.

Severus nodded. “I swear it, I will.”

Harry smiled. “Good,” he replied. “Because I have a problem, and I wanted to ask you your opinion on something.”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “What problem?”

“Dumbledore... You know he sent us on a journey?”

“To destroy Horcruxes, I know of it,” Severus replied. “You can rest assured that the Dark Lord knows of this, but he shan’t hear of your progress from me.”

“That’s a relief,” Harry replied. “Because we’ve found two of them. We know how we can get one of them, but not the other. We know where they are. We just need to figure out a way to get the second one without detection.”

“Where are they?”

Harry sighed. “It’s better that you don’t know,” he replied, squeezing Severus’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t want anything bad happening to you for knowing the information.”

“Harry, you don’t need to protect me...”

“Yes, I do,” Harry said, his tone fierce as he stared up at him. “Because, when this war is over, I want you in one piece. When this war is over, we’ll both be free. When this war is over, and there are no more secrets between us, we’ll have the rest of our lives, a life I want to spend with you, Severus, if that is something you may want,” he said, and he found himself stumbling over the words then, for the two had not discussed anything of the sort, and all discussions had been implied until now.

Severus shook his head. “You don’t want me, Harry. You could never...”

“I absolutely want you, Severus,” Harry replied. “Ever since you kissed me outside of Slughorn’s Christmas party. You made me feel whole again. You made me feel cherished; loved, even, even though we haven’t done anything like that since. I know there’s the age difference to account for, plus your loyalty—on skin, at least,” he said, and rolled up Severus’s sleeve, and dragged his fingers over the Dark Mark gently, and watched as Severus hissed through his teeth and shut his eyes at the contact, “to You-Know-Who, but I don’t care. Dumbledore must’ve trusted you for a reason, and while you say the time isn’t now, I will wait with bated breath to find out the reason, because I care for you, Severus. You’re not getting away from me, and as soon as the war ends, we’ll have the rest of our lives, if that’s what you want.”

“Of course it is,” Severus said quietly, pulling him towards him again and holding him close. “I have wanted it for a very long time.”

“So have I,” Harry whispered. “A long time...”

“Polyjuice Potion,” Severus said after a moment of silence.

Harry blinked, pulling back from Severus then, and peering up at him. “Polyjuice Potion?” he asked his former professor, and shook his head. “For what?”

“For you, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Granger,” he replied. “I assume you will be able to get some hair on your own?”

Harry nodded. “I’m sure that’s doable.”

“Wonderful,” Severus replied, letting Harry go and motioning for him to follow him to his stores, located beside the headmaster’s desk, where he retrieved three vials each, and handed them over to Harry, who pocketed them. “They also have a charm upon the bottles,” Severus explained, and, when Harry blinked, he smiled indulgently. “Meaning that even if you fall from a great height or accidentally drop them, they won’t break. Since you were never particularly skilled at potions until Professor Slughorn took a liking to you, it is no surprise that you didn’t know that.”

Harry turned and looked around, seeing all the former headmasters were still asleep, and breathed a sigh of relief. “I think it was you,” he replied.

Severus blinked. “What?”

“You are the Half-Blood Prince, and I had your book,” Harry said with a cheeky grin. “You helped me so much last year. I never thanked you properly.”

Severus shook his head. “I cannot accept a thank you from you, Harry, for I do not deserve such a thing, when you are still in the dark about so much.”

“Well, then I shall thank you when you can inform me of such things,” Harry said simply, and stepped forward, throwing his arms around Severus again, and kissing him briefly, before he pulled back, threw some Floo Powder onto the fire, and called for Grimmauld Place in Parseltongue, so that Severus wouldn’t know where he was hiding out. Turning, he put up a hand to wave before he stepped backwards into the flames, leaving Severus alone in the office, and with the title, he never wanted.


	4. I Learned The Truth Too Late

_“Boy.”_

_Uncle Vernon’s words immediately set Harry on edge. He had been ordered to wait for him in his bedroom, kneeling on the hardwood floor, back straight, eyes facing the window, which still had the bars on it from the summer before his second-year at Hogwarts. The summer sunshine, which should’ve normally been a comfort, seemed to be mocking Harry as Uncle Vernon slammed and locked the door behind him and prowled forward. Harry did his best not to stiffen automatically as he heard the clink of his uncle’s belt, which momentarily hit the floor, as he got it out from around his meaty middle, and flexed it between his massive palms and sausage-like fingers._

_“Do you know why you’re being punished today, boy?” Uncle Vernon hissed, his voice filled with as much loathing as he could muster, as his stout feet banged along the floor and came towards him. “You do know that much, don’t you?”_

_“Because I’m a freak,” Harry said, his voice soft, but loud enough for his uncle to hear him, and he knew it, too, for he heard him chuckle in pleasure behind him. Harry, who had been told to keep his hands, palm down, atop his bent legs, enfolded his fingers into his own palms, his nails biting the sensitive flesh there; however, he knew, deep down, that it would be a fraction of the pain he would feel at his uncle’s hands._

_“Very good,” Uncle Vernon went on, stepping closer, the floor shuddering beneath his massive amount of weight. He smirked with glee as Harry took in a sharp breath at the sound of his belt buckle dragging across the floor. “Straighter!” he shouted then, and Harry did his best to straighten his spine as far as it would go. “Good.” He then held the piece of leather aloft in the air, the sun momentarily glinting on the buckle, and slashed it through the air, the resulting mark on Harry’s back a moment of pure ecstasy for him._

_Harry gritted his teeth, fighting back tears as Uncle Vernon continued the vicious assault upon his back. He considered egging him on, telling him he needed his back red and raw; anything beat getting raped by him. But Harry hadn’t been asked a direct question; he’d been taught, for the most part, growing up to only speak when spoken to. As Uncle Vernon had said nothing to warrant a response, he’d been ordered, by omission, to keep silent. Rendered speechless, Harry raised his eyes upwards at the sun again, tears flowing from his green eyes behind his glasses, as he mentally counted the summer days, until such a time as he could return to Hogwarts. He would turn sixteen very soon, and although his “freaky little friends”, as Uncle Vernon called them, would want to send him gifts, Harry had begged them not to, as he knew that they would be held before him as if he was one of Aunt Marge’s dogs, before thrown on the fire, or destroyed by Uncle Vernon—or Dudley, as his cousin delighted in such a pastime._

_Harry was hardly aware that Uncle Vernon had finished, other than the notion that his legs were threatening to fall asleep at any moment. He stiffened when the belt clattered, for the last time that day, to the floor, and Uncle Vernon caught hold of his hips, pulling him up so that he was now on his knees. He bit into his lower lip then, tasting his own blood, as Uncle Vernon pulled him closer still, and shoved his massive erection into his backside. Harry’s eyes shut immediately then, bracing himself for the pain as he was stretched completely then. The hot breath on his neck and the groaning in his ear sent bile into his throat, but Harry knew well enough by then that, if he lost control, that it would be worse for him. If he did so, Uncle Vernon would threaten to shove his cock down Harry’s throat, or worse, strangle him._

_Harry forced himself to think of something else and the thought came unbidden to him as he opened his eyes. Black robes seemed to be hovering before him and, when they landed, he saw himself looking into the eyes of Severus Snape. Harry found himself shocked by this, as this dream was more of a memory than anything else, and he knew full well that his former Potions Master was not in the room during the assault._

_“_ Bombarda _!” Severus screamed then, his wand having come out of his robes immediately, and suddenly Uncle Vernon was ripped out from Harry’s insides, causing Harry to scream for a moment as his oaf of an uncle crashed into the wall behind him. He then lowered his eyes to Harry, before gently guiding him to his feet. “You’re not hurt, are you?”_

_Harry shook his head then. “I don’t understand,” he whispered. “How is it that you’re here? I don’t...”_

_“I’ve been able to watch dreams for years, Harry, but I only recently mastered the art of entering them,” he explained patiently, guiding Harry into his arms. “Next time you come to see me, I will give you some Dreamless Sleep Potion.”_

_Harry’s arms wrapped automatically around Severus, suddenly feeling safer than he had ever been in his entire life. “I wish it didn’t have to be like this...”_

_“Like what?” Severus asked._

_“Being on opposite sides. Me having to kill that madman. Us having to keep secrets from one another,” he said softly._

_Severus stiffened in his arms, before pulling back from Harry. “So, this is not merely a nightmare for you, then?”_

_Harry sighed. “No. More like a memory. It didn’t stop until this past summer, before I left for the Burrow, just before the Trace got off me...”_

_Severus lifted his black eyes towards the disheveled lump that was Vernon Dursley, his lips curling in distaste and rage. “So, your uncle is the one who hurt you?”_

_Harry nodded stiffly. “Yeah.”_

_“Fuck,” Severus whispered, not letting Harry go. “Listen, Harry, I don’t want you to think that you’re obligated to...”_

_Harry stood on his toes then, pressing his lips briefly to Severus’s, before getting back down once again. “I don’t think that at all,” he said softly. “Ever since you kissed me outside of Slughorn’s Christmas party, I can’t get it out of my head. I meant what I said, Severus—you_ do _drive me crazy. I’m also crazy about you. It has nothing to do with what my uncle did to me, and everything to do with who I am and what I want. After this war is over, I will come for you, and defend you, for as long as it takes. Because, once this is all over, I’ll want you for the rest of my life, and I don’t give a shit about what others might think. If you want me—or if you ever wanted me in the first place—and you still want me by the time I kill snake-nose, then I’m all yours, for the rest of our lives.”_

 _Severus looked shocked at the young man’s words, before gathering him back into his arms. “I shall always want you, Harry._ Always _.”_

_Harry grinned against his former professor’s robes. “Always,” he whispered back, taking comfort in that one word which held everything._

. . .

Harry awoke drenched in a cold sweat, relieved that he could no longer feel the pain inflicted on him by Uncle Vernon, but disappointed at the ache inside himself, now that Severus’s arms were no longer wrapped around him. He shoved off the blankets of the great bed, casting the Tempus Charm, and realized it was close to seven in the morning. He groaned, dragging a hand down his face as he shuffled over to the bathroom, kicking the door shut behind him and turning the shower on, the steam filling the room.

He stiffened as he lowered his pajama pants, mortification entering his bloodstream as he saw his erection threatening to poke through his boxers. “Merlin,” he whispered, “I’ve got it bad.” Harry took off the boxers and his erection sprang free, and he rolled his eyes as he stepped inside and under the stream of water. He leaned against the tiled wall, biting his lower lip, his loins aching as he imagined Severus Snape unabashedly pounding him into the surface.

Harry banished the thoughts from his mind as quickly as he could, although he still came undone through his fingers at the notion of Severus touching him everywhere. After washing himself as best he could, he left the shower and trudged back to the bedroom he’d been occupying, and dressed quickly before heading downstairs. He smelled eggs, sausages, toast, potatoes, and tea wafting through the house, and wasn’t surprised to already see Ron and Hermione sitting at the table talking amongst themselves. Kreacher had presumably already left the vicinity to do his other chores, and Harry reluctantly sat at the head of the table, as he was now the Master of the House of Black.

“Any word from Bill yet, Ron?” Harry asked.

Ron shook his head. “No,” he replied.

“I have a feeling it will be today,” Hermione said quietly, her nose in the book that Dumbledore had left her, _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ , while all the while she took another delicate bite of her scrambled eggs. “Fleur usually makes up her mind quickly. I heard that within a week of her arrival at Hogwarts, she had already decided to enter the Triwizard Tournament.” She raised her brown eyes to Harry’s green ones then, and watched as her friend sipped at his tea and nibbled at a piece of dry toast. “Harry...”

“What?” he asked, his tone subdued, while Ron took another bite of a massive sausage from the seat next to him.

“Are you all right?” she whispered. “You look exhausted.”

Harry sighed. “I’ll be fine, Hermione,” he replied.

She nodded. “I know you will,” she said softly, taking the serving fork and putting some eggs onto his plate. “You need your strength,” she told him, her tone gentle yet firm as he fixed her with a look.

“She’s right, mate,” Ron said with his mouth full, earning him a glare from Hermione, which went, for the most part, unnoticed. “If the bust at Gringotts happens today, I don’t want you keeling over. You may be smaller than I am, but I don’t fancy carrying you around.”

Harry gave his friend a loathing look. “Thanks, Ron,” he replied.

No sooner had the words passed through Harry’s lips did the dining room fireplace suddenly turn a blazing green color. The trio stared at each other for a moment before abandoning their respective breakfasts and darting over to the hearth to answer the call. Harry, kneeling in the center as it was his home, leaned into the flamed and felt his eyebrows raising automatically at the sight of Bill and Fleur Weasley staring back at him.

“Morning,” Harry managed to say, yet was unable to keep the surprise from his voice. “Sorry about running out on the wedding, Fleur,” he said softly.

“It ‘ees all right, ‘Arry,” she told him, her pale eyes shining with newly wedded bliss. “I vould not vish you to come to ‘arm.”

“I appreciate that,” Harry said, his eyes turning over to Bill. “I take it that this isn’t a social call, unless it is...”

“It’s not,” Bill said, shaking his head as he took Fleur’s hand. “We wanted to let the three of you know that we’re in.”

“Brilliant!” shouted Ron from beside Harry, and Hermione glared at him again.

“We assume you’ll be disguised,” Bill continued, looking from one of them to the other.

“Harry’s got Polyjuice,” Hermione informed Bill quietly, and he and Fleur nodded. “We’ll just need some goblin hair...”

“We vill use zee Imperius Curse,” Fleur said softly, “to compel zee goblins to ‘and over zheir ‘air,” she informed them.

“As much as I disapprove of Unforgivables,” Hermione told Fleur, “I suppose you’re right. At the end of it, it won’t really hurt them.”

“We’ll _Obliviate_ them, too, of course,” Bill continued, “before convincing them to return home for the duration of the day.”

“Bill and I thought you could come through ‘ere,” Fleur explained, gesturing to their house, Shell Cottage, on the other side of zee fire call. “You can use ‘Arry’s invisibility cloak and follow us to zee bank. Zhen, we vill use zee spells on zee goblins, get zheir ‘air, and zend zhem ‘ome. You three vill zhen transform into zhe goblins vhile Bill and I cause great distraction to zhe bank, which vill make it zuitable for you to get zee zhings.”

Harry nodded. “That sounds like a plan. Thanks, Fleur.”

“You zaved my life in zhe maze, ‘Arry, as well as my leetle sister’s life from zhe Black Lake, I do not forget,” Fleur said, smiling at him. “If zhis vill ensure zhe takedown of zhe Dark Lord, zhen I vill ‘elp all I can.”

“Thanks, Fleur,” Ron said from next to Harry. “We’ll check around here, make sure we’ve got everything, and head over within the hour.”

“We’ll be expecting you, then,” Bill said, smiling warmly at his brother.

“Zee you soon, zhen,” Fleur said, and the call ended.

Hermione flitted around Grimmauld Place like a buzzing bee or a flapping bird for the next forty-five minutes, using the Extension Charm in her beaded bag to the maximum. Making sure that the books weren’t crushing the vials of Polyjuice Potion, Harry and Ron merely stood around looking at each other, wondering if Hermione had gone mad. Finally, Hermione came into the living room where the pair waited, and rolled her eyes as Ron chewed on a makeshift sausage roll, leftover from breakfast.

“Honestly, Ronald,” she muttered, casting a quick Cleaning Spell on his hands before they all stepped towards the fireplace.

“Ready?” Harry asked.

“Let’s go,” Ron replied.

. . .

After stumbling through the Floo and into the living room of Shell Cottage, Bill and Fleur instructed the trio to get under the cloak immediately while the five of them Apparated to Gringotts. Once there, Bill and Fleur got inside as normal, while the trio were undetected as they walked along the highly-polished marble floors of the bank. Harry felt trepidation filling him then from beneath the glass and jewel chandeliers, just hoping that, for once, all hell wouldn’t break loose on this plan, and that they could merely fetch the Horcruxes and get out.

Bill somehow managed to summon Ricbert, Bogrod, and Nimbley towards him and Fleur without much detection, as Harry, Ron, and Hermione stepped towards them, while Hermione cast a Silencing Charm to the area. Bill cast the curse at the trio of goblins, and they all three took on a calm and willing demeanor almost instantly. It was Fleur who asked them for their hairs, which they freely gave to her, and Hermione’s hand darted out from beneath the cloak and added the three hairs to each vial. Bill then _Obliviate_ ’d the three of them before convincing them to return home for the day, and they all left.

“Ugh,” Ron groaned as he sipped the liquid. “It’s green...” His lips puckered as he inhaled it. “It smells like rancid spinach...”

“Just drink it, Ron,” Hermione hissed, sipping her purple liquid. “Grapes,” she said softly to Ron’s questioning look. “All right, Harry?” she asked as she turned to look at him.

“Fine. Smells like the sea,” Harry muttered, forcing himself to tip the light blue liquid down his throat, detecting the taste of salt, and something else he couldn’t quite place. He shuddered for a moment then as he, Ron, and Hermione all shrunk dramatically, and Hermione took the cloak and put it in her beaded bag.

“Well?” she asked, her voice coming out as a squeak.

“You’re Nimbley,” Bill explained, “and Harry’s Ricbert, while Ron is Bogrod.”

“Thanks, Bill,” Ron muttered.

“Ve vill create zee distraction now,” Fleur said, smiling at each of them in turn.

“You’ll have an hour,” Bill said softly, aware of how long the effects of Polyjuice Potion lasted from his time under Severus Snape. “Best be quick.”

Harry nodded. “We will be,” he said, as Hermione summoned the faded documentation from her bag, which she’d told the boys also contained a map of Gringotts with the best ways to each Black family member’s vaults.

“Now,” Fleur whispered, and conjured a Eurasian Lynx out of thin air, which let out a yowl at the notion of becoming sentient. However, none of the goblins reacted to this; no, it was the mighty roar from somewhere deep inside the bank that caused great uproar, as the floor shook their feet, and the chandelier swayed dramatically. Then, the goblins looked up, before the rattling of chain deep within could be heard, and then, the show.

A great Ukrainian Ironbelly came clawing its way from somewhere within the deep corridors of the bank, still chained to the pillar it had freed itself from. Hermione, for her part, looked horrified as she, Harry, and Ron darted back. She screamed, “ _Reducto_!” and the chains burst from around the dragon, as it destroyed the foyer and made chase to the little cat, who seemed to be having the time of its life.

“Go!” Bill hissed. “The cat is enchanted never to get tired, or allow the dragon to catch it, but this won’t last long!”

“Zhe Minister of Magic may come,” Fleur said softly. “Zhe last thing we need are Death Eaters to come in here.”

“She’s right,” Ron said, grabbing Harry and Hermione with his goblin fingers and hauling them to the cracked doorway where the dragon had escaped from just moments ago.

The trio ran on their short legs towards a cart, which they got into quickly. Hermione, still gripping tightly to the map, motioned to Ron which way to turn the enchanted wheel. No sooner had Hermione given Ron the correct way to go, than the cart sped off, leaving Hermione to grip the map, Harry the sides of the car, and Ron the wheel to ensure they didn’t go flying. Once they arrived at the Black family vault, Harry got out of the cart and tricked the lock with his goblin claw, causing the door to open for him.

“ _Accio_ locket,” he whispered, his wand in hand. The locket wasn’t summoned, but Harry heard a distinct humming, and knew that it was Voldemort’s soul calling out to him. Stepping towards it and looking around, he spotted it at last, in a highly-polished curio case on a bed of expensive-looking green velvet. “ _Alohomora_ ,” he whispered, and the case opened for him, and Harry grabbed the locket before darting out of the vault and kicking the door behind him, which then locked automatically.

Hermione quickly read Ron the coordinates of the Lestrange family vault as she stuffed the locket into her bag, and the cart surged to life again. They went at rapid speed towards the door, which looked quite similar to the Black family vault, likely given their Slytherin leanings. Harry got to his feet once they arrived, using his goblin claw a second time, and the lock tripped, opening up for him. It was cave-like inside, and although it was stuffed with more treasures than the Black family vault, it was nowhere near as light inside, and the organization left something to be desired.

“Where do you think it’ll be?” Ron whispered.

Harry sighed. “I heard some humming with the locket,” he told them. Looking around, he turned back to Hermione then, and said, “Can I see your copy of _Hogwarts: A History_ again?”

Normally about to chastise Harry for wasting time, Hermione nevertheless summoned the book and tossed it effortlessly over to Harry. Harry caught the book, flipping through to the index so as he could readily get to the section on Helga Hufflepuff. Finding it, he skimmed the paragraphs and looked briefly at the photo of her; the kindly witch with dark hair smiled at him, and who held a golden cup in her hand. Harry studied the painting briefly before he tossed the book back at Hermione, and surveyed the various high shelves, polished cases, and decorative boxes from within the Lestrange vault.

It was then, on the highest shelf to the ceiling, that Harry spotted a row of golden cups. He lifted his wand then, as the buzzing seemed to enter his ears with full force, and whispered, “ _Accio_.” It came with flying speed towards him, and Harry wondered if Helga Hufflepuff’s kindness was on his side that early August day.

Harry ran from the vault then, darting back into the cart as Hermione spelled the door closed. It was then that Ron darted for the wheel of the cart, and the trio surged back towards the entrance to all the vaults. They looked at the chaos unfolding around them, and Hermione summoned the cloak from the bag before anyone could catch sight of them. Harry grabbed it, throwing it over their bodies before they Apparated back to Grimmauld Place, knowing that, had they remained there much longer, Voldemort’s followers would have surely caught their escape.

. . .

Harry awoke in mid-morning the day after the Gringotts bust, a Tuesday, and he felt more rested than he had in a long time. He hadn’t had nightmares at all, but he still wanted to get his Dreamless Sleep Potion from Severus, as he missed the man, and knew that it would be better if he planned for the future. Throwing himself out of bed and into the shower, he knew that his lower body had responded to his thoughts of his former Potions Master, and he hoped, as he stroked himself, that he’d be able to alleviate some of the tension later that day.

After heading downstairs and indulging in a full English breakfast, he did his best to partake in the conversation of destroying the Horcruxes they’d gotten the day before. Now that the diary and the ring had been destroyed, and they were in possession of two others, they were on track to potentially wipe out more than half of them as soon as they destroyed the locket and the cup. It was a casual morning for the trio as they sipped cups of tea after breakfast in the living room, and Harry wondered what the future would bring—he knew that Ron and Hermione would be married one day, and he too wondered if such a thing would come to pass for him. He decided to thank his friends with a surprise that evening, now that he had plans to meet with Severus in the headmaster’s rooms at Hogwarts, and knew that paying them back was the least he could do, for how many times had they come to his aide, really?

“Kreacher,” Harry said quietly, as he got ready for his evening with Severus.

Kreacher popped into Sirius’s old bedroom, which Harry had, by now, quite adopted, and bowed to him. “Yes, Master Harry?”

“I have to run out for a while, so I shan’t be in need of dinner, just a light snack later,” he informed the elf, who bowed again. “I would appreciate it if you would make a roast chicken, boiled potatoes, carrots, and Gryffindor Cake for dinner this evening. I would very much like it if you could procure some Butterbeer as well. Please light the candles in their best sticks and serve it in the dining room, for two, with the fanciest china, silver, and a tablecloth. This dinner is for Ron and Hermione,” he explained.

Kreacher bowed. “Naturally, Master Harry. Kreacher will do this. Kreacher longs to serve the heir to the House of Black.” He smiled then, his ears twitching slightly. “If that will be all from Kreacher, Master Harry?” he asked, likely wanting to be dismissed so as he could get back to work, as well as perform the task Harry had assigned to him.

“Yes, Kreacher, that’s all. Thank you.”

“No thanks is necessary, Master Harry,” Kreacher replied, before snapping his fingers and disappearing from the bedroom.

Harry turned and looked out the window; he knew the sun wasn’t due to set for another couple of hours, and so he walked over to the bed—which Kreacher had made whilst the trio had been enjoying breakfast—and lay upon it. He stared up at the ceiling and, smirking to himself, conjured the curtains and furnishings to turn from green, black, and silver into red and gold. He laughed to himself then, knowing that Walburga Black would surely disapprove of such a thing if Sirius had done it, considering what she had done when Sirius had run away from home when he was sixteen.

He must’ve dozed off, for the next thing he heard were those sweet lips and that tempting voice whispering his name, and his green eyes shot open, and quickly became riveted at the hearth a few feet away from his bed. Getting to his feet, he could vaguely smell the roast chicken cooking from down below, and saw that the sun had set completely. Darting over to the fireplace, he saw the face of Severus Snape within the flames, and Harry felt himself grinning stupidly at him, especially when a small smile played at the older man’s lips.

“I’ve finished with my duties this evening, Harry,” he said, his voice soft. “Feel free to come over to the castle, if you like.”

“I would like,” Harry replied before he could stop himself, before grabbing a handful of Floo powder and strutting in. Once he’d passed through, he threw his arms around Severus without hesitation, and joy flew threw him as the man chuckled, holding him back. “It feels like it’s been forever,” Harry whispered.

“An age, I assure you, Harry, was not merely one-sided,” Severus confirmed, his long fingers going into Harry’s dark locks in an attempt to tame them. “Oh, before I forget...” He released Harry for a moment and wandered over to one of his massive sets of potion drawers, located behind the headmaster’s desk. He reached inside and feted a handful of vials and handed them over to Harry. “Only a few drops, per sleep.”

Harry smiled. “Thank you,” he said, putting them into the pocket of his jeans, before he put his arms around Severus again.

Severus chuckled at the movement, carding his hands through his hair again. “What have you three been doing with yourselves, Harry?”

Harry sighed, content for a moment before he suddenly yanked himself back from Severus’s arms, and stared wildly up at him. “You fire-called me.”

Severus blinked. “Yes.”

He shook his head then, worrying his bottom lip. “In order to do that, you would have had to know where I am... Where the three of us are...”

Severus sighed. “It was a guess...”

“Oh, no,” Harry moaned then, putting his face in his hands. “The last thing I need is You-Know-Who after me now, but Ron and Hermione...I can’t...”

“Harry, listen to me,” Severus said, gently placing his palms upon Harry’s shoulders, which caused him to raise his eyes, green meeting black. “You can trust me. I said as much. And even though I cannot tell you everything now, I’ve promised to do so.”

“I understand that,” Harry said, quickly losing his nerves as he stared at Severus. “But what if You-Know-Who figures out where...?”

“He _won’t_ ,” Severus told him firmly. “With Legilimency, it is merely a matter of supplanting one memory for another. If the Dark Lord attempts to invade my mind, which he surely will, I will merely go along with the reports that your whereabouts are unknown. I can easily put in false memories to dissuade him, or others, where I’ve sworn my loyalty to him in the past. He will believe me, Harry, for I would never willingly bring harm to you.”

Harry sighed. “But... You figured out where I was...”

Severus nodded. “Yes. While Grimmauld Place was merely a guess on my part, it was a decent one, I suppose. Given that Black left you the home in his will, along with everything else in the Black family fortunes...” Something in Severus’s mind seemed to click then as he stared down at Harry in a moment of shock.

“Severus?” Harry asked, reaching up and touching the man’s face. “Severus, what’s wrong? You look worried...”

“It was you three, wasn’t it, who broke into Gringotts yesterday?” he whispered then, searching Harry’s eyes. “That is why you needed Polyjuice...”

Harry sighed. “Yeah, it was us...”

“For Salazar’s sake, Harry!” Severus shouted then, shaking his head before dragging Harry towards him, holding the young Gryffindor against him. “Do you realize how potentially dangerous that all was?”

“Severus, this is _me_ we’re talking about...”

Severus sneered. “Don’t give me the ‘I’m the bloody Chosen One’ speech...”

“I’m _not_ ,” Harry said, pulling back so as he could meet Severus’s eyes. “I faced You-Know-Who my first-year at Hogwarts. I faced his memory in my second-year, and destroyed a Horcrux to boot, while dying from a Basilisk bite. Not to mention facing the betrayer of my mother and father in third-year,” he said, and saw a trace of sadness in Severus’s eyes at that statement, but nevertheless plowed on, “and faced You-Know-Who again fourth-year, after he murdered Cedric Diggory. Then, in fifth-year, I lost Sirius, before casting _Crucio_ on Bellatrix Lestrange. And then, just months ago, I saw a man who I could come to love kill my mentor. And do you know what, Severus? After all that... After all that, I forgive you,” Harry whispered, taking Severus’s face into his hands and staring into his eyes. “After you killed Dumbledore, and made my previous six years at Hogwarts complete hell—demeaning me, taking house points, and doing god knows what to tear me down—I forgive you. All the rage and resentment evaporated that Christmas, when you kissed me outside of that goddamn Christmas party. Everything changed, and although I felt confusion after you killed Dumbledore... I can’t explain it. Everything is different now, but I’m never happier in life than I am when I’m with you.”

Severus stared down at Harry, wondering how a mere seventeen-year-old boy could spout the words of a man. Out of everything, everything that he’d said, Severus only focused on one thing that Harry had said. “Love?” he whispered.

Harry smiled ruefully up at him. “After all I said just then, Severus, that’s what you got out of that fucking monologue?” he asked, and laughed. “I appreciate that you’re worried about me, Severus, but I don’t want a parental figure, especially from you. I want you to be my lover and my boyfriend.”

Severus’s eyes darkened then at Harry’s words, before a moment later when he slammed the young man up against the wall behind him. “Finally,” he whispered, and yanked his chin up, and devoured his mouth.

Harry felt his senses turn on like wildfire then as he knotted his fingers into the long raven locks then, his heart beating a mile a minute, and his mouth opening beneath Severus’s. He permitted his tongue to meet his, and felt a moan escape his mouth as soon as they met. He felt his hands automatically go upwards to the buttons at Severus’s collar then, intending to remove all of his clothes and to shove him into the bedroom then, but Severus caught his hands, and pulled back, a cry of disappointment coming from Harry. “Severus,” he pleaded.

Severus sighed, pressing his forehead against Harry’s. “You have no idea how much I want you, Harry, or all that I want to do to you...”

Harry whined then, pressing his body up against Severus’s. “So do it,” he begged.

He shook his head. “Not yet,” he replied, leaning down and kissing him again. “Not while the world is so uncertain.”

“But I want you,” Harry whispered.

Severus smiled. “And I want you,” he assured him. “But I know full well that, the moment I have you, I’m never going to be able to let you go. If that’s the case, I’ll never let you out of my bed again, and how will you defeat the Dark Lord then?”

Harry sighed, petulant. “You’re probably right...”

“Well, I can help you with your sadness,” he said, beckoning a sight unseen with his fingers, and something swathed in black velvet came flying from Severus’s bedroom. “Think of it as a late birthday present, and something that should have been given to you long before now.”

  
Harry blinked, removing the black velvet, and felt his eyes widening at the ruby and gold hilt in his hand. “The Sword of Gryffindor,” he whispered, and raised his eyes to Severus.

“It was left to you by Albus in his will,” Severus explained.

Harry nodded, returning the sword inside the velvet. Hesitating for a moment, he threw his arms around Severus then, wanting to taste the man just one more time, and felt relieved when Severus’s arms came around his frame and kissed him back. “I meant what I said, you know,” he whispered as he pulled back.

Severus appeared dazed for a moment. “What?” he asked.

Harry grinned, moving back towards the fireplace. “About me coming to love you,” he said gently as he tossed the powder into the grate. “I meant every word,” he whispered, as the flames came to life, and swallowed him.

. . .

“How’d it go last night?” Harry asked, nudging Ron, who turned red to his ears at Harry’s implications as they watched Hermione making tea in the kitchen.

“Fine,” Ron squeaked. “It was...fine.”

Harry grinned. “Sure it was.”

“Kreacher said you had something to do last night, Harry,” Hermione said, bustling into the living room with a tea tray, and positioning it onto the coffee table in between the living room couch and hearth. “He didn’t mention what it was, and when Ron and I pressed him, he said that you didn’t share the information.”

“Yeah, and your room was empty when we went to check on you, mate,” Ron said, peering over at Harry, who distracted himself by shoving a biscuit in his mouth. “Where did you find yourself this time?”

Harry sighed, brushing the excess biscuit crumbs off of his sweater, which caused Hermione to tut and vanish them with a simple wave of her wand. “Scotland,” he said softly.

“Scotland?!” Hermione demanded.

“Where in Scotland, mate?” Ron asked.

Harry rolled this eyes. “The Highlands,” he replied, his tone evasive.

Hermione squeaked. “But, Harry, that’s where...”

“You were at Hogwarts?” Ron asked, his tone quiet as he searched Harry’s face, but Harry refused to look at him. “Why would you be there...?”

“I went to see Severus, all right?” he said, his tone far sharper than he intended.

Hermione sighed, dragging her hands through her bushy mane as she shook her head. “For Merlin’s sake, Harry,” she said. “I doubt he’s told you whether or not he’s truly on our side yet, considering the secrets he’s willing to keep...”

“What do you even see in that git anyway, mate?” Ron demanded.

Harry’s green eyes flashed to his friends’, and he sighed. “He was loyal to Dumbledore, which means he’s loyal to me,” he said, his tone thick with emotion. As he sat there, staring at their faces, he muttered, “ _Accio_ ,” and the black velvet-clad sword flew into his hands from Sirius’s bedroom upstairs. “If you don’t think he’s loyal, look at this,” Harry said, and thrusted the sword into Hermione’s hands.

“Harry, what’s—?”

“I don’t believe it!” Hermione cried out, cutting Ron off as she pulled back the velvet, and allowed herself to touch the rubies on its hilt. “Harry, do you realize what this means?” she whispered to him, her eyes meeting his.

Harry shrugged. “Severus gave it to me because Dumbledore left it to me in his will,” he said with a small shrug. “That, and the Snitch. I guess he thought that I’d see him as loyal by giving it to me, even though it technically doesn’t belong to me, even if Dumbledore decreed it to me via his will this summer. I know it belongs to the school, Hermione,” he said, his tone firm, although Hermione looked slightly annoyed at Harry’s honor. “I know that Dumbledore left it to me for some reason or other, but...”

“Harry, you killed the basilisk with it,” Hermione said slowly.

Harry blinked, remembering how the fangs of the beast had sunk into his arm as he had stabbed it, their blood connecting, and how he would have died, had not Fawkes come to his aid. “Yeah, I remember, Hermione,” he said, his tone soft.

“What are you getting at, ‘Mione?” Ron asked her.

“Remember Tom Riddle’s diary in the Chamber of Secrets—you stabbed the diary with the fang of the basilisk, which caused the memory of Tom Riddle to be destroyed, and Dumbledore confirmed that you destroyed the diary, which is a Horcrux, via the fang,” Hermione said wildly as she got to her feet and paced around the living room, her trainers soft on the antique carpeting as her mind went a mile a minute.

Ron jumped to his feet then, his eyes just as wild as Hermione’s. “That means, since you used the sword to kill the basilisk, the sword is full of the venom, which means that we can use it to destroy the locket and the cup!”

Hermione let out a shout at Ron’s words then, dropping the sword onto the ground and running to Ron, whereupon she threw her arms around him and kissed him full on the mouth. “I love you, Ronald Weasley,” she whispered, staring into his eyes.

Ron looked both shocked and excited at the declaration. “I love you, too, Hermione Granger,” he replied, tickled.

“Oi!” Harry snapped, getting to his feet and retrieving the sword. “Could you hold it in for a few moments, please, so that we can destroy the Horcruxes?”

Hermione colored, dropping her arms from around Ron’s neck. “Yeah,” she said, her face flaming red in embarrassment.

Ron took out his wand then, squeezing Hermione’s hand briefly. “ _Accio_ cup, _accio_ locket,” he said, his wand pointed at Hermione’s bag.

Hermione’s bag suddenly came open then, and both the cup and the locket flew out and landed in Ron’s outstretched hands. “So, how do we do this, then?” she asked.

Harry shrugged. “No idea,” he said, stepping forward with the sword in his hands. He took ahold of the hilt carefully as Ron placed the cup onto the floor beside the hearth, and shrugged once more. “Let’s just do it,” he said, and stabbed the cup with the sword. There was a hiss from somewhere then, and Harry’s scar burned immediately, causing his knees to buckle as a waft of ash and smoke emitted from the hole he had made in the cup, a gasping scream following suit. It couldn’t have been more than a moment, but as Harry got to his feet, the buzzing sound that always seemed to be coming forth from the cup suddenly silenced, and he raised his eyes to Ron and Hermione.

“Three down,” Ron said quietly.

“Four more to go,” Hermione continued.

Harry kicked the cup to the side as Ron placed the locket where it had been, and Harry bit his lip, knowing that the locket would have to be open. “Something’s in there,” he said, hearing the buzzing suddenly becoming frenzied, as he turned to look at Ron and Hermione. “I think something in there could hurt us. No matter what’s said or done, know that it’s all lies, and we have to kill it.”

Hermione nodded. “All right,” she whispered.

Ron smiled tightly then. “You’ve got it, mate,” he said.

Harry bit his lip then, and handed the sword to Ron. “I’ll open it, and you kill it. Okay?” he asked, knowing that he should give Ron a way out.

Ron tightened his grip on the hilt of the sword. “I got it.”

Harry whispered, “ _Open_ ,” in Parseltongue, without even being aware of it, and suddenly, the locket snapped open, a series of frenzied screams and dark gray smoke filling the living room of Grimmauld Place.

Faces of Voldemort filled the smoke, dangling his snake-like tongue at anyone who would care to look at it; Harry was vaguely aware of Hermione, crouched behind the couch, covering her ears as she watched the scene unfold in front of her in horror. The voice of Voldemort filled their ears shortly thereafter, and Harry turned his eyes to Ron, who was fully captivated by it. Harry knew that Ron shouldn’t be listening—in fact, none of them should—but he also knew that Ron could believe the words, which fed off of the person’s worst fears.

“ _I have seen your dreams_ , _Ronald Weasley_ , _and I have seen your fears_ ,” the locket declared in Voldemort’s voice, and, suddenly, spiders emitted from the locket, causing Ron to draw back in a sudden burst of terror. “ _All you desire is possible_ , _but all that you dread is also possible_... _Least beloved_ , _always_ , _by the mother who craved a daughter_... _Least loved now_ , _by the girl who prefers your friend_... _Second best_ , _always_ , _eternally overshadowed_...”

“Ron, kill it!” Harry screamed, trying to locate Ron’s face as the smoke grew thicker with each word Voldemort spoke. “It’s lying! Kill it!” Harry’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open as he saw smoke-clad renderings of himself and Hermione, holding hands, and turned to the real Hermione, who stared, with the same expression.

“ _We were better without you_. _Stronger_ ,” the fake Harry declared.

“ _You are nothing_. Nothing,” the other Hermione said.

“ _Your mother confessed she would have preferred me as a son_ ,” the fake Harry chanted, his tone gloating, towards Ron.

“ _What woman would want_ you, _compared to Harry Potter_? _You are nothing_. Nothing,” the other Hermione sneered.

“She’s like my sister!” Harry yelled. “Please, Ron! Kill it!”

“It’s lying, Ron!” Hermione screamed, speaking for the first time, which seemed to catch Ron’s attention. “It’s lying! I would never—!”

The other Hermione and fake Harry then turned towards each other then, green eyes meeting brown, and smiled at one another. It was as if they were the only people in the world as their fingers interlocked into one another’s, and they slowly smiled. Then, with some kind of animalistic force, the fake Harry yanked the other Hermione towards him, and they kissed passionately, their mouths opening beneath the other, and leaving nothing to the imagination for the viewer.

Ron let out an inhuman scream then, and held the sword aloft, before he made a run for the locket, and sliced the weapon in mid-air. That same scream that emitted from the cup filled the room again, and all the smoke disappeared him the air, the other Hermione and the fake Harry immediately being swallowed up. Harry slowly got to his feet, and Hermione did the same, all the while removing her hands from her ears as the sword clattered to the ground.

“Ron,” Hermione whispered then, her eyes filled with tears as she walked towards him, and let out a gasp as he pulled her into his arms. Their lips met, and Harry bent to pick up the sword so as he wouldn’t have to look at them. “Please believe me, Ron, it’s just you. It’s always been you, and it will always be you.”

“Same for me, Hermione,” Ron said, leaning down and kissing her again.

Hermione collected the now-destroyed Horcruxes and summoned her bag, and placed them inside before she pulled Ron over to the couch, and Harry perched on the love seat beside it, returning the sword into the black velvet sheath. Hermione squeezed Ron’s hand as she pulled _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ out of her bag, and opened it to the cover page. “Odd,” she whispered, and Ron leaned closer to have a look.

“What is it?” Harry asked, getting to his feet and sitting on Hermione’s other side. “That’s not a rune, is it?” he asked.

Hermione pulled a face. “You of all people should know what is and isn’t a rune, Harry,” she said, her scolding tone light.

Ron chuckled. “Ancient Runes, History of Magic, and Divination were glorified extra sleeping hours in classes, Hermione,” he explained. “You knew that right?”

Hermione rolled her eyes and stared at the symbol. “A triangle, with a circle, and a line drawn through it,” she whispered. “That’s odd. I don’t recognize it, and I usually recognize rune symbols...” She tore another book out of her bag, a rune book, and scoured through it for the next five minutes, before slamming it shut. “Nothing. It’s not a rune.”

“I recognize it,” Harry said, the thought coming to him. “Mr. Lovegood wore the symbol at the wedding,” he said softly then, suddenly remembering the piece of silver dangling from Luna’s father’s neck.

Hermione raised her eyebrows. “Well, maybe a visit to the Lovegood household is in order, but we’ll have to plan accordingly,” she said quietly.

“Right,” Ron said. “Ever since yesterday, Bill says that Percy and the ministry’s been having a fit about the bust. They’re calling Harry the most undesirable.”

Harry smirked. “Not so unusual,” he muttered.

“Harry, this is serious,” Hermione said firmly. “One false move, and they can turn you into the Ministry of Magic for profit, and into the hands of You-Know-Who, now that Thicknesse is in charge of everything...”

At Hermione’s words, there was a splintering in the front door of Grimmauld Place, and a sound that was reminiscent of the spell that Umbridge had used to get into the Room of Requirement when Harry, Ron, Hermione, and others had been using it for Dumbledore’s Army. The trio darted to their feet, holding their wands out, when an oval-faced wizard with long, white hair pulled back stood in the doorway, along with a few other witches and wizards, and Ron immediately stiffened, gripping onto both of their hands.

“Yaxley,” he whispered through his teeth.

“Fuck,” Harry whispered as Yaxley grinned at them, and raised his wand.

“No!” Hermione screamed then, shutting her eyes, and the trio Disapparated just as the green bolt of light attempted to intercept them.


	5. I’ll Never Shake Away The Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my lovelies! Just two quick things:
> 
> 1\. I've made Luna in seventh-year because it just flows better with the story  
> 2\. The names I've picked for Pansy's parents, Timeer and Shamayla, mean (1) darkness and wealthy person and (2) she is a dark beauty.
> 
> Love you all!

Harry, Ron, and Hermione crashed somewhere in a forest that Harry didn’t recognize; due to the urgency of them leaving Grimmauld Place, and the quick decision-making on Hermione’s part on the grounds of a destination, there was no way that any of them could have landed in a comfortable manner. Harry’s vision was blind-white for a moment, and he didn’t dare move, knowing full well that he would be left spinning on his feet. The desire to vomit was strong, but Harry knew that if he just kept breathing, then the feeling would pass.

Finally, Harry straightened up, catching sight of Ron, bent over, vomiting what was likely left of his breakfast. Hermione was absentmindedly stroking his back and whispering comforting words to him as Harry somehow managed to crawl closer to them. “Hermione?” he whispered then, and her brown eyes gazed over at him.

“The Forest of Dean,” she replied. “Mum and Dad took me camping here when I was a little girl. It’s all right, Ron,” she whispered, turning her attention back to her boyfriend as she continued to rub his back. “The forest is in Gloucestershire,” she went on, doing her best to keep her tone neutral so as not to upset Ron further. “Harry, in my bag, there’s a book of spells. Summon it out, and you can cast some protective enchantments.”

Harry very nearly yelled at Hermione for doubting his capability for casting such things, but decided that now was not the time. He fetched the book quickly and thumbed through it, and found the pages on the enchantments she’d just mentioned. He muttered then then, his wand managing to find its way from his pocket, and got the whole area in just a few moments. They were under a grove of thick trees, and it was truly a lovely area, if you were into forests, but Harry found himself more attracted to the indoors recently, and one room at Hogwarts in particular was calling his name.

“There’s a tent in there as well,” Hermione said softly, obviously aware that Harry had finished with the enchantments. “In my bag. If you could summon it out and set it to rights, that would be much appreciated, Harry.”

Harry sighed, knowing that Hermione was probably the better person to see to Ron anyhow, as he returned the book to the bag and managed to find the tent. Once he managed to find it, he charmed it into position, and it came to life for a moment before unfolding itself, the stakes planting themselves firmly into the forest floor and situating themselves. Harry peeked into the tent, seeing two cot-like beds—one bigger than the other, likely to accommodate Ron and Hermione, while the second one was likely his—a dining room area, and a smaller area with three chairs and a firepit.

“Harry.”

Harry turned at the sound of Hermione’s voice, and was able to see Ron making an effort to get back up onto his feet. Without hesitation, Harry crossed over to him, putting an arm around his shoulders and guiding him into the tent, walking him automatically over towards the cot he would be sharing with Hermione. Setting him down, he folded Ron’s hands over his chest, and saw his closest friend sighing deeply. “All right there, Ron?” he asked, knowing that this was all he could really ask at this point.

Ron sighed heavily; his normally pink complexion was white, although color was slowly but surely returning to his cheeks. “I will be.”

Hermione hesitated for a moment then, before shuffling from foot to foot, obviously wanting to do something as Harry got to his feet. “Tea?” Hermione asked unsteadily then, moving over to the little stove across the tent, and conjuring a teapot, with some teabags, from her bag. There was also some sugar, but no pot of cream, as Harry knew that it was likely to spoil, now that they all three of them had no way of knowing when they would be back into civilization. She worked silently then, the only sound coming from the whistle of the pot and the clink of the cups as she stirred sugar into them a few moments later. Moving towards Ron then, she offered him the cup, along with a biscuit, which he took, chewing and drinking slowly.

“Thanks,” Harry said as Hermione handed him a cup and a biscuit of his own. The tea seemed to calm him considerably, which he knew he would need, now that they were literally in the middle of the woods and a good six hours away from his lover. He didn’t even know when they would be able to see each other again, although he was aware that Severus likely knew that he, Ron, and Hermione had left Grimmauld Place in a hurry.

“Wish we prepared for an ambush like that,” Ron said quietly; he had finished his biscuit and half of his tea, and had slowly raised himself into a sitting position, his feet touching the floor off the side of the bed. “Maybe if we’d...”

“Ron, really?” Hermione hissed, moving to sit beside him. “They all knew where we were. They wanted Harry. They would have killed me immediately, after doing Merlin knows what to me beforehand; probably brainwashed you in the aftermath; and took Harry to serve him up on a bloody silver platter for You-Know-Who.”

Ron’s hands shook then at the mention of Death Eaters killing Hermione, but Hermione levitated his cup before he could smash it. “Don’t say that, Hermione,” he whispered firmly, gathering her into his arms without hesitation. “There’s not enough brainwashing they’d ever do. If they killed you, I’d want to be dead. If they took Harry, I’d kill them, and then be killed. I couldn’t survive without either of you.”

“Honestly, Ronald,” Hermione whispered, but her tone was indulgent.

Harry sighed, sitting in one of the chairs by the stove across from them, giving them as much privacy as he could without wandering back out into the forest. He tipped his head back then, not wanting to look at the small hearth beside him; it was Muggle-made, and that meant that he couldn’t use it to visit Severus. As his mind wandered back to Grimmauld, and how wonderful that near-fortnight was staying there, he thought...

“Hermione.” His word came out like a snap.

“What is it, Harry?” she asked.

Harry gritted his teeth then, his heart pounding in his chest. “They got it.”

“Got what, mate?” Ron asked.

“The sword,” Harry replied. “The Death Eaters got the Sword of Gryffindor.”

. . .

Draco Malfoy stared out of the massive window in the library of Malfoy Manor, surveying how the waning days of summer affected the luxurious gardens, which had been put together by his mother and Aunt Bellatrix. Draco had never really liked Bellatrix Lestrange; ever since she had held Neville Longbottom captive in the Death Chamber at the Ministry of Magic, and seemed to want to taunt people at every turn for their misfortunes, something about the woman who shared his blood made his skin crawl. Not that he could ever speak aloud about this; his mother wouldn’t hear about him bashing relatives, for appearances’ sake; as for his father, if he heard him saying a kind word about the Longbottom family, despite their shared Pureblood status, there would be hell to pay, as he saw right through it.

His father... Draco shook his head at the man who he had once looked up to on the same level as his potions professor, Severus Snape. His father, who had let him down in the most disappointing way imaginable by not acting like a father. His father, who had been carted off to Azkaban for assisting Lord Voldemort just before his sixth-year at Hogwarts. He remembered the crunching sound that his boot had made when he’d broken Harry Potter’s nose on the Hogwarts Express before the school year had formally begun, and how he’d lashed out at him, blaming him for his father’s imprisonment.

Draco knew, as he’d always done, that Harry Potter had nothing to do with it; Harry had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and had made for an easy target to take out some of his untapped rage on. That, combined with the notion that he’d been given the task to not only let Death Eaters into the Hogwarts castle via a vanishing cabinet, as well as heeding the Dark Lord’s words in killing Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, Draco was frightened. All his comfort, had he had the courage to take it, was in the notion that he was staying away from Neville Longbottom, thus not getting him into the tangled web of deception his family had weaved and, using him as a fly or a pawn, had drawn him into it.

Neville. The boy who had been stumbling and awkward from the time they’d begun at school, now was the walking specimen of Draco’s deep-seated desires. If the world was different, he would have slammed Neville up against the closest secluded Hogwarts wall—despite the fact that the Gryffindor had several inches on him—and snogged his breath away. Were it not for his being a Gryffindor, and being on the side of the Light, and a male, he would have been the perfect candidate for a mate for Draco in this day and age. Draco craved Neville, and although they’d stolen a mere handful of brief moments during their sixth-year, he’d made no promises, given that he had nothing to offer the man but a lifetime of disappointment, due to their opposing sides in this devastating day and age. While, outwardly, Draco had been branded the poster child of the Dark Lord’s regime, his mother had somehow managed to make sure that neither of them would be physically branded by the Dark Mark. Emotionally, however, the pair were as invested as his father and his aunt, and nothing he could say or do could get him a ticket out.

“Draco.”

The soft voice of his mother called him from his thoughts, and as Draco turned around, his jaw dropped as he saw his father standing there with her. “Father?” he asked, the word coming out in shock, and Lucius Malfoy smiled proudly at his son.

“Ah, Draco,” he said, stepping forward, his skin appearing sallow and his white hair slightly lank from his moths in Azkaban. He came towards his son then, briefly squeezing his shoulders and staring down at him, before smiling in approval. “Your mother was correct. You are indeed looking well, my son.”

 _No thanks to you_ , he thought, but quickly silenced those thoughts as he nodded stiffly. “Yes, Father, I am managing.”

“Well, such things can be expected, my son,” he said, obviously just pleased that Draco was still alive for the moment. “Well, your mother and I have exciting news for you.”

“Yes, Father?” Draco asked.

“We believe it is high time, since you will be leaving Hogwarts by the following year, that you prepare for your future, my dear,” Narcissa Malfoy said, smiling at her son. She stepped back into the doorway, and called, “It is all right. Come in.”

Draco’s jaw nearly fell once more as Pansy Parkinson, along with her mother and father, seemed to glide into the library. Draco bit his tongue at the satisfied look that appeared on Pansy’s face for the occasion, and Draco felt annoyed that he had ever encouraged her. He felt the bile rise in his throat then as she saddled up beside him and possessively took his arm in hers, her dark eyes glowing at something as if she’d eaten the canary.

“Mother, what is going on?” Draco asked.

“He does not know yet?” Timeer Parkinson asked, looking over at Lucius.

“I’ve only just been released, you see,” Lucius explained. “Narcissa and I wanted this to happen as quickly as possible.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Shamayla Parkinson said, smiling at the company; she had the same beautiful raven locks her daughter had, although her eyes were kinder, and her expression was much more passive. “As you can see, our dear Pansy is clearly besotted with your Draco.”

“Which is why we gave our consent immediately,” Timeer Parkinson put in. “Us Purebloods need to stick together, Lucius.”

“You have my agreement on that,” Lucius replied, smiling at that, and Draco felt sick at the notion that the smile resembled a snack.

“Father, Mother, what is going on?” he asked.

“The time has come, Draco, for you to assume your proper place in the Pureblood world, with an appropriate union,” Narcissa Malfoy said gently, with a smile on her face. “Your father and I have been regarding your fellow Slytherins from the time you entered Hogwarts, and we believe that Pansy is the best choice for you.”

Draco blinked. “Pansy?” he asked, his eyes sliding back over to her, and she smiled up at him like she’d won thousands of galleons. “The best choice for what?”

“For your wife, of course,” Lucius said patiently to his son. “The engagement will be announced at the Hogwarts welcoming feast tomorrow, with the formal party during the Christmas holidays, and then you and Pansy shall be married after your graduation.”

“My _wife_?” Draco demanded then, his eyes looking back down at Pansy, who looked positively delighted at the proclamation. “Father, you can’t be...”

“Serious?” Lucius Malfoy asked, throwing back his head and laughing. “Why, of course I am, Draco, quite serious. You and Pansy shall be formally engaged this afternoon, after each of you consents to the binding contract, and then, as I’ve stated, Headmaster Snape shall announce the engagement tomorrow at the welcoming feast.”

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Pansy whispered to Draco, her lips at his ear, as she kissed him just beneath his lobe, which truly did make the bile form, which caused his throat to burn as he forced himself to swallow it down.

“Father, I really think that...”

“Come now, Draco, don’t be rude,” Narcissa said gently to her son, as she and Lucius moved to stand behind Draco, while Timeer and Shamayla Parkinson moved behind Pansy. “Now, Draco, you must swear yourself to Pansy.”

“Mother...”

“Now, Draco,” she said, her tone holding a warning.

Draco sighed, his heart truly breaking at the notion that he had to swear his oath to Pansy, when all he truly wanted was to swear to Draco. He bit his lip, moving so that he was standing opposite Pansy, and she intertwined their hands. “I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, do solemnly promise to marry Pansy Parkinson upon my commencement from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, being of sound mind. This oath was taketh from me on the twenty-fifth of August, of nineteen-ninety-seven, in the library of Malfoy Manor, before witnesses Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, as well as Timeer and Shamayla Parkinson.”

“Very good, Draco,” Lucius said, obviously pleased.

“Pansy,” said Shamayla, “your turn now, dearest.”

“I, Pansy Shamayla Parkinson, do solemnly promise to marry Draco Malfoy upon my commencement from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, being of sound mind. This oath was taketh from me on the twenty-fifth of August, of nineteen-ninety-seven, in the library of Malfoy Manor, before witnesses Timeer and Shamayla Parkinson, and Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy.”

“Wonderful, Pansy, wonderful,” Timeer Parkinson whispered to his daughter.

“Here, Draco,” Narcissa said softly to his son, handing him a ring which was a silver snake, curled around a brilliant emerald. “Give it to Pansy.”

Draco swallowed then, but nevertheless took the ring from his mother, and slipped it on the correct finger onto Pansy’s hand. “With this ring, I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, do solemnly promise to be your husband upon our commencement from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, in June of nineteen-ninety-eight.”

Pansy, flushed with excitement, produced a similar ring for Draco, except this one was merely a silver snake with small emeralds for its eyes. “With this ring, I, Pansy Shamayla Parkinson, do solemnly promise to be your wife upon our commencement from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, in June of nineteen-ninety-eight.”

“Welcome, Pansy, to the Malfoy family,” Lucius said from behind Draco.

Draco, for his part, tried to smile, but all he could think of was the announcement at the welcoming feast, and wondered if Neville’s heart would be as shattered as his own.

. . .

“The Sorting Hat would likely sing a poem about snake-nose being on the rise,” Ron muttered as Hermione stirred a pot filled with stew.

“Better yet, maybe the sword would come flying out to a worthy Gryffindor, to take down the regime itself,” Harry replied. He inhaled the food that Hermione was making; it was root-based, which she had found after consulting a Muggle book on forest plants that were reportedly safe for human consumption, with a few wild vegetables in there.

“Honestly, boys, I don’t think the Sorting Hat would dare,” Hermione put in.

Ron shrugged at her. “Who knows? Things and people have surprised us before. Like Snape, for one,” he went on, and Harry automatically clenched his fists, his heart beating erratically at the mention of his lover. “Miss him, Harry?”

“Gee, Ron, I don’t know,” Harry replied. “How would you feel if Hermione had to prance about like Severus must, singing the praises of You-Know-Who, and couldn’t even be with you in the outside world for fear that you would both be killed?”

Ron looked shocked at Harry’s sudden declaration. “Point taken, mate. Sorry.”

Harry sighed. “It’s not your fault, Ron,” he replied, sagging in his seat from where he was sitting in front of the small Muggle hearth. He extended his fingers towards the red and orange flames, temporarily warmed by them. “I just wish things could’ve been easier.”

“Like you being with Ginny?” Ron asked.

Harry made a face at that. “No. Like me not falling for an ex-Death Eater.”

“Go easy on him, Ron,” Hermione warned gently, taking the ladle out of the soup and tasting it, before summoning a saltshaker from her bag and shaking it into it. “Harry is bound to be slightly tender for a few more days.”

“I’ve never had the luxury of being outwardly tender, Hermione,” Harry replied. “I had to face You-Know-Who as a baby, and then again in first-year. Then a basilisk and the memory of You-Know-Who in second-year, not to mention saving Ginny’s life. And then, third-year, having to get Sirius and Buckbeak to safety, and allowing the man who killed my parents to continue to run free and get back to You-Know-Who. Then nearly evading death, but allowing Cedric to get sacrificed in the process fourth-year. And then, fifth-year, losing Sirius before facing You-Know-Who all over again, before watching the man I’m falling in love with kill Dumbledore during sixth-year...”

“Love?” Hermione squeaked.

“Blimey, mate. We didn’t know it was that serious.”

Harry huffed. “Well, now you do.”

Hermione sighed, spelling the ladle to stir itself while she crossed the tent and sat down opposite from Harry. “I’m sorry, Harry. We really didn’t know.”

He nodded. “I know. I didn’t want to say anything while we were still at school. Despite all the shit he’s put us through, and killing Dumbledore...”

“You didn’t want him in trouble. I get it,” Hermione replied.

“Not to mention what would’ve happened if you reported him for snogging you outside of Slughorn’s Christmas party,” Ron put in.

“I just don’t understand why Snape would be so reckless without taking precautions, either before or after doing that,” Hermione said softly.

Harry sighed. “He did.”

Hermione sat straighter then, fixing Harry with a look. “What do you mean?”

Harry leaned forward then, balancing his elbows on his thighs, as he considered that night for the umpteenth time in his mind. “Severus tried to _Obliviate_ me that night.”

“Blimey,” Ron whispered.

“‘Tried to?’” Hermione asked, looking shocked at Harry’s declaration. “And you’re telling me it didn’t work?”

“Well, I’ve still got the memory,” he replied, looking up at Hermione, who looked amazed that he’d managed to block such a spell. “Believe me, when I told Severus during the wedding that I blocked it, somehow, he was surprised, too.”

“Wait. Snape was at the wedding?!” Ron sputtered.

Harry sighed. “Yeah, he was there.”

“When?” Hermione asked.

“Before Kingsley told us that the ministry had fallen and that Scrimgeour was dead,” Harry replied in a soft voice.

“I’m sorry,” Hermione said then, her voice soft as Harry slowly dragged his eyes back to hers. “I can’t imagine how difficult this all is for you, Harry. I wish it could be easier, but I’m afraid it isn’t that simple. Until or unless Snape is willing to give us all the answers, all we can do is remain in hiding until it’s safe.”

“How long?” Ron asked.

Hermione turned to look at him and sighed. “Well, we’ll have to stay here for a bit. Then we can go and see if and of our followers have some leads on some safe spots. Until then, we’ll remain in the forest and try and figure out what our next move will be. We can go through several possibilities, but I think our next course of action will be to see Luna’s father. Maybe he knows about the symbol in _Beedle the Bard_.”

Ron sighed. “Not what I meant, Hermione.”

Hermione blinked. “What?”

“I was asking how much longer until the stew is ready,” he said, smiling guiltily. “Although that was a really good plan...”

Ron was cut off by Hermione conjuring a pillow to throw at him, which Ron caught in his mouth, so that he resembled a smaller, leaner version of a suckling pig. Hermione, meanwhile, crossed the room, grumbling about how Ron was never satisfied with one meal at a time, as she took ahold of the ladle and began furiously stirring the stew again. And Harry, for his part, laughed ever so slightly then, before he turned his face back to the hearth, his mind wandering yet again to his Half-Blood Prince.

. . .

Luna Lovegood sat in her bedroom, just one day before her seventh-year at Hogwarts began, and looked up at the moving pictures positioned above her bed. They were entwined with the word _Friends_ , and each photo represented one of her friends at Hogwarts. She smiled to herself, despite knowing she would not see Harry, Ron, and Hermione the following day, knew that she would, in fact, see Neville Longbottom and Ginny Weasley. Many people at Hogwarts believed that Neville and Luna were a couple, and while they were nothing more than close friends, Luna never dissuaded anyone from thinking that, because she knew how certain Purebloods felt about others who had an affinity for the same gender.

“Luna.”

The voice would’ve normally caught anyone off-guard, but Luna knew that someone would be contacting her before school began. She couldn’t explain it, her knowing things, as she got off her bed in her stockinged feet and crouched before the hearth, staring into the green blaze. “Well, hello there, Neville,” she said, her voice dream-like as usual. “Has Lady Longbottom prepared you for seventh-year tomorrow?”

“As much as Gran can,” Neville replied.

Luna regarded Neville then through the blaze; despite the coloring, she could tell that Neville’s eyes were red and he appeared saddened by something. “Why, Neville, you seem to be upset about something,” she said, her tone gentle. “What’s the matter?”

Neville sighed; he could always talk to Luna, as she could read him like a book, and because she would offer him sound advice without judgement. “Did you hear the news from Malfoy Manor last week?” Neville whispered.

Luna shook her head. “I’m sorry, Neville, I haven’t. Daddy and I don’t really follow the Malfoys on a religious basis,” she told him, her voice gently as she attempted to explain their reasons for doing so to him. “Ever since they came out in support of _The Profit_ , Daddy believes we should keep in touch more with _Quibbler_ families.”

Neville nodded like he understood. “Right,” he replied.

“Please tell me,” Luna said, putting just the right amount of firmness in her voice, knowing that Neville clearly had something he needed to get off his chest. “I can tell when something’s bothering you, Neville. It’s plain to see.”

“The Malfoys and the Parkinson’s have entered into a contract,” Neville murmured, but Luna could still hear him plain as day. “A... _marriage_ contract,” he said, the tears letting lose now as they streamed down his face. “It’s due to be announced tomorrow at the welcoming feast that Draco and Pansy are to be married.”

“You’re saddened by this,” Luna said softly.

Neville dragged his hand through his brown hair. “Is it that obvious?” he demanded, more sharply than he intended.

“Neville,” Luna said, her tone plaintive, “I told you as much during Dumbledore’s Army that you should have spoken up to Draco about your feelings for him.”

Neville turned red. “You’re the only one who knew.”

She smiled. “I know.”

“That was why people thought we were together,” he said. “I mean... I know it could look bad, what with you pre-contracted to Rolf and all, but...”

“Rolf understands,” Luna informed him; indeed, her fiancé was most understanding about matters of the heart, and understood completely about her faking a relationship with Neville was entirely for his benefit and not her own. “Rolf is very considerate, Neville, never fear. If you would like, we may continue, as it were, to pretend that we are a couple, so that your feelings will be spared.”

Neville sighed, hanging his head. “I can’t do that to you.”

“You’re not doing anything to me, Neville,” Luna said. “We’re friends, and we merely act like friends in mixed company. We’ve never given any indication that we are a couple—our peers and professors at school merely think we are.”

“My gran thinks we are,” Neville said.

Luna giggled slightly then. “Well, then she is as bad as people at Hogwarts.”

“Does your dad know?”

Luna sighed. “He knows I am being a helpful friend towards you. Daddy thinks that you should be whoever you truly are to make yourself happy, unless you hurt people in the process. Hurting yourself counts, Neville, but if you wish to continue how things are, then I will endeavor to support your wishes and help you.”

Neville swallowed. “How can I do this?” he whispered. “Draco has always been cruel to me. If I had been a Slytherin and supported You-Know-Who...”

“You couldn’t have supported You-Know-Who,” Luna said, narrowing her eyes. “After what his followers did to your mother and father, only an idiot could support him, and you, Neville, are no idiot, as far as I’ve seen.”

Neville smiled. “Thanks, Luna.”

“No need to thank me for speaking the truth, Neville.”

He sighed. “So, we’ll keep up the charade tomorrow, on the train?”

Luna nodded. “Yes, even though Death Eaters will likely be crawling around every foreseeable surface imaginable, we’ll continue with the charade.” She hesitated for a moment. “Plans with Ginny still a-go for re-forming Dumbledore’s Army?”

Neville nodded. “With Snape as headmaster, we’ll need all the help and protection we can get, now that the new regime is in place.”

“We’ll do all we can to protect the younger ones, Neville.”

“I hope we can, Luna,” Neville replied.

. . .

Severus Snape had summoned the Head Boy and Head Girl of each Hogwarts House on that first day of September to the headmaster’s office after the welcoming feast. With the prefects, fifth and sixth-years, showing the first-years to their respective dormitories, and the third and fourth-years heading there on their own, Severus’s obligation was to the seventh-years for the moment, and he was not looking forward to speaking with them. Not because he didn’t want to speak with them, but of the reasons behind why he had to speak with them in the first place.

Like clockwork, fifteen minutes after the welcoming feast, each seventh-year Head Boy and Head Girl from each house came into the office. First, Neville Longbottom and Lavender Brown from Gryffindor; Michael Corner and Luna Lovegood from Ravenclaw; Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson from Slytherin; and Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbott from Hufflepuff. It felt wrong to Severus as he moved to his seat behind the headmaster’s desk and regarded the eight students before him, but nevertheless he inclined his head, cocking an eyebrow at each one of them respectively before he spoke.

“First of all, I must ask if any of you have any information about Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger,” he said. Pleasantries be damned.

“No, headmaster,” Neville Longbottom said, aware that Snape’s eyes had drifted to him almost automatically, knowing their camaraderie.

“Very well, Mr. Longbottom. Miss Lovegood?” he asked.

“No information, headmaster,” she said softly.

Severus nodded then, deciding to move on, as the Hufflepuff students weren’t particularly close to any of the trio, and while Gryffindor Lavender Brown was the former paramour of the youngest Weasley boy, he didn’t think the relationship had ended well enough for them to keep in constant contact. “To the next order of business,” he went on, with a flick of his wrist, and an inner door of the place came open, and Alecto and Amycus Carrow came stepping in, the Death Eaters that the Dark Lord had put on the staff. “Allow me to introduce your new Deputy Headmistress, Professor Alecto Carrow, also the Professor of Muggle Studies,” he said levelly, and each student looked surprised, save for Draco and Pansy. “This is her brother, and your new Deputy Headmaster, who will also be the Professor of the Dark Arts this year.”

“That’s amazing, headmaster,” Draco said, speaking up, “that you’ve received permission to revert it back to the Dark Arts, instead of defense.” However, Severus could see that the typical enthusiasm for this sort of thing was gone, and his pale eyes held something behind them that he couldn’t quite place.

“Ten points to Slytherin,” Severus said, knowing that he would have to reward the behavior anyhow, because Draco was the poster child for the Dark as he turned to Amycus. “Perhaps, Amycus, you may enlighten this pool of seventh-years of what their first lesson will be in the Dark Arts this year.”

Amycus smiled then, obviously looking forward to his moment to shine. “I would be happy to oblige, headmaster,” he said, bowing slightly before he turned back to the students. “Your first Dark Arts lesson this year will be to practice the Cruciatus Curse...on first-years,” he said, and his smile took on a masochistic air then.

“Absolutely not.”

Severus turned his face then to see who had spoken out of turn, and was surprised that Neville Longbottom had been the one to speak up. “Mr. Longbottom, I realize that, as a Gryffindor, you seek to be pure, but you must understand that, because of these new times, the Unforgivables must be taught, and you will learn them.”

“I won’t do it,” Neville replied.

“Ten points from Gryffindor,” Severus said firmly. “And you will do the lesson.”

“I refuse,” Neville said then, his eyes blazing with repressed anger then. “I don’t care what kind of professor you are,” he sneered at Amycus Carrow, “or what you teach, or who you are. You’re a Death Eater, plain and simple, and I don’t take orders from Death Eaters. I refuse to partake in this lesson. I simply refuse.”

Severus had to admire the young man’s courage, but he couldn’t permit himself to show such a thing, especially in front of Death Eaters. “Another ten points from Gryffindor,” he said softly to Neville, his tone deadly. “Amycus, Alecto. You know what to do,” he said then, and snapped his fingers, before they both stepped forward and grabbed Neville by the forearms, and proceeded to haul him away.

“Where are you taking him?!” Draco suddenly burst out then, his eyes suddenly coming alive again as he watched Neville being removed.

“The dungeons,” Severus replied, as if it didn’t really matter to him. “He will be punished for insubordination, insulting professors, and the Dark Lord’s regime.”

“Headmaster,” Draco pleaded then, his voice only getting cut off by the Parkinson girl, who wrapped her fingers in a possessive grip on his arm. “Get _off_ me!” he screamed at her then, and threw her arm off, before stomping towards Severus. “Give me the punishment.”

“Wait a moment,” Severus said, holding up his hand, and the Carrow siblings willingly stopped removing Neville. “Repeat that, please, Draco.”

“Give me Neville’s punishment,” Draco said then, sounding as if he was completely in his right mind, although the fact that he addressed Neville by his first name shocked Severus. “Give me his punishment. Please.”

Severus shook his head. “You know I can’t do that, Draco.”

Draco looked torn then, his eyes turning from Neville to Severus again, before he suddenly drew out his wand. “ _Incendio_!” he screamed then, the sparks issuing forth from his wand, and, before Severus had time to react, his robes caught fire, singing his arm, the very arm where the Dark Mark was tattooed.

Severus got to his feet then, managing to douse the fire as he glared at Draco. “Fifty points from Slytherin, Draco,” he growled, before turning to Alecto. “Take him downstairs as well. Shackle him beside Longbottom, and do what you see fit.”

“With pleasure, headmaster,” Alecto Carrow said, stepping forward, and pulling Draco out of there, on the heels of Amycus dragging Neville.

“Now,” Severus said, sitting at his desk and staring at the remainder of the students—half of Gryffindor and Slytherin, plus the full deck of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. “Will there be any other disruptions?” he asked.

Luna swallowed then, knowing that she would have to seek out Ginny as soon as they were dismissed from this place for the night. She caught herself mid-shiver, and forced the movement to die down then; she couldn’t permit Severus Snape to see her fear. Dumbledore’s Army had to start up again. It had to, and the sooner it started up, the better.


	6. I Close My Eyes, But He’s Still There

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if it was ever specifically stated that one could send a Patronus wandlessly or not, so for this story's sake, I'm going to say yes. Yes, they can.

The Carrows painstakingly shackled Draco Malfoy and Neville Longbottom in the dungeons before leaving them there. They’d wanted to torture them, or curse them somehow, but because both boys were Purebloods—and the Head Boy of Slytherin and Gryffindor respectively—it was all they were permitted to do. The siblings, clad in similar black robes to Severus Snape, slipped from the room, tempted to immobilize or silence the boys, but knew that nobody would be pleased with them for that as they slipped from the room.

“That was awfully stupid of you,” Neville said, sensibly waiting until the Carrows had left and disappeared up the stairs back to the headmaster’s office to speak to his fellow prisoner. “You shouldn’t have pissed off Snape like that. He’s your godfather, isn’t he?”

“What does that matter?” Draco asked, his tone clipped.

“It matters in that he can make things worse for you,” Neville said softly.

Draco rolled his eyes. “And what about you?” he sneered, turning over to look at him. “You could have spoken up, you know.”

Neville blinked. “What?”

“When I valiantly demanded Snape give me your punishment,” Draco replied, his tone steady, while Neville stared at him as if he’d grown another head. “You could have spoken up, but you decided not to. I suppose I know where we stand now.”

“The Carrows put a wandless Silencing Charm on me,” Neville said softly, and Draco inwardly cursed himself, hating that he’d automatically assumed the worse of Neville. “They locked my joints as well; that’s why I was unable to scream. I was screaming, though, in my head,” he went on, and Draco turned his head away from him. “Do you honestly think that I can turn off my feelings that quickly? You might be able to, but not me.”

“Sod off, Longbottom,” Draco growled, struggling against his chains; they were digging into his wrists, and he had an extremely low tolerance for pain.

“No!” Neville sputtered then, and his heartbeat quickened as Draco turned to look at him, similarly suspended a few feet off the ground. “No, I won’t sod off, Draco! I’m sick and tired of pretending to hate you when you know full well that I...”

“You think this is easy for me?” Draco demanded, cutting him off, his voice trembling. “You think I wanted this? Any of this?”

“I don’t know,” Neville replied, shrugging as best he could around his restraints. “You are, after all, a Slytherin. Slytherins are known for their cunning. How should I know what you want and don’t want, when, clearly, you could’ve used your cunning to...to...”

“To...? What? Spit it out,” Draco said, attempting to focus on wandless magic in an attempt to get them both out of there.

“Lead me on,” Neville said at last, and Draco’s eyes flashed to his.

“ _What_?!” Draco demanded. “You think that I...”

“Clearly, I don’t know,” Neville said, his tone firm, as he fought to keep Draco’s gaze. “You could have been using me to get information...”

Draco scoffed, lowering his eyes. “Please,” he muttered, his tone lightening then. “You know as well as I do that I wouldn’t pretend to be what I am. My father expects tradition. I don’t know if my mother would mind it—I know that she wants what’s best for me, like my father, but at the end of it, she cares about my happiness. I wouldn’t _pretend_ to be this way,” Draco continued, finally allowing himself to look up at Neville again. “Father would likely think it is some kind of curse for letting down You-Know-Who.”

“Do you think that?”

“Do I think what?”

“Do you think it’s a curse? Being what you are?”

Draco hesitated for a moment, using every last ounce of his concentration, before the chains snapped off and he and Neville tumbled to the ground. Immediately, he was on his feet, and dragged Neville by the collar towards him, and their lips met. He tasted the taller Gryffindor and, before he could stop himself, a moan had escaped his lips at the notion of how long it had been since they’d done this. “No,” he whispered, and he could feel Neville’s heartbeat against his own. “I don’t think it’s a curse for being who I am, or wanting who I want.”

Neville blinked. “You... You actually...?”

“Don’t make me repeat it...Neville,” he whispered, and Neville felt himself tremble at the notion that his lover was whispering his first name. “You have to know that none of this, with Pansy... I won’t have it. I can’t marry her.”

Neville blinked. “But your father...”

“I don’t care what he dictates to me,” Draco said, his tone firm, and he let out a small gasp as Neville wrapped his arm around him. “I may have entered into an engagement contract with Pansy, but it cannot be kept, for my heart was not in it.”

Neville slowly smiled. “I knew you had one of those.”

“Piss off,” Draco said, but a massive smile played at his lips as he slammed Neville up against the opposite wall and dragged him back down to meet his lips.

. . .

Harry, Ron, and Hermione sipped their morning cups of tea, while Harry occasionally stared into the hearth, thinking of Severus. When he couldn’t stand it anymore, he set down his half-finished cup and slipped out of the tent, wandering around the area they’d covered with protective enchantments, and breathed. The cool morning air seemed to calm him somewhat, although the familiar ache of missing his lover never seemed to leave him completely. The term had started at Hogwarts the day before and, had things been different, Harry would have joined the rest of his classmates in their education. However, had things been so different that Lord Voldemort would have never gone down the path he did, Harry believed that he and Severus wouldn’t have found each other to begin with.

Taking his mind off from the slippery slope, Harry returned to the tent, seeing Ron and Hermione just finishing their own cups of tea, and talking softly about nothing in particular. It had been this way since they’d arrived in the forest nearly three weeks before; it was as if the pair were constantly walking on eggshells around him, and that they feared one false word would send him over the edge. Harry crossed the tent and sat in the vacant chair beside them, and his two best friends simultaneously turned to look at him, their eyes wide.

“I want to go see Lovegood today,” Harry said softly.

Hermione nodded, while Ron spelled more tea into his mug. “I think that’s an excellent idea, Harry,” she replied, her tone still soft. “We need answers that only he can give.”

“Maybe there will be some halfway-decent cooking there, too,” Ron muttered, and he cried out as Hermione elbowed him in the ribs.

“Honestly, Ronald, you need to figure out times and places for appropriate remarks,” she muttered as she flitted around the tent, gathering everything they needed before spelling the entire tent into her bag, and the three of them were left standing on the forest floor. “Well, then, I suppose we should set off for Devon. Ron, I know it will be difficult since we’re so close to the Burrow, but we mustn’t call attention to ourselves.”

Ron nodded, still rubbing the part of his ribs where Hermione had elbowed him. “Blimey, Hermione, was there a rock in your arm?”

Hermione smirked to herself for a moment as she turned to Harry. “Okay? Shall we set off for Ottery St. Catchpole now? You haven’t forgotten anything?”

“No,” Harry said, shaking his head. “Let’s go.”

The trio Apparated from the forest, and found themselves in what appeared to be a barren valley, with the exception of a stone house which resembled a rook chess piece. The grass surrounding them was just beginning to turn a dark brown, to give way to the soil underneath, as autumn was set to begin in just a few short weeks. Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked towards the house quickly and carefully, for in these uncertain times—and in such close proximity to the Death Eater attack on the Burrow weeks before—they had no way of knowing who was lurking behind a lone shrub or a massive boulder beyond.

Hermione stepped forward upon the staircase and knocked on the door, and there was the sound of shuffling from inside before it swung open. “Mr. Lovegood?” Hermione asked, deliberately attempting to make her voice polite.

“Ah, Miss Granger,” he said, looking down the stairs past her. “Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley. Please, do come in,” he said, lowering his head and moving to the side so as all three teenagers could pass him and walk into the house. “I’ll make tea,” he said, smiling at each of them in turn before shutting the door behind them and making his way into the parlor cum kitchen, and set to work readying the tea kettle.

“Please, don’t trouble yourself,” Hermione said gently to him.

Mr. Lovegood turned around and smiled, looking through his white hair which appeared to have the consistency of candy floss. “It is no trouble, I assure you, Miss Granger,” Mr. Lovegood replied, and gestured to the plush-looking chairs in the surrounding area for them to sit. “I take it that you three are on a journey, and thus not in school?”

“It’s a mission, for Dumbledore,” Harry said softly, moving to sit on one of the offered chairs and crossed his legs at the ankle. “I am afraid we are not at liberty to discuss it.”

Mr. Lovegood nodded in understanding, filling the tea kettle with water and setting it down on the odd-looking stove. “No, of course not,” he said, his tone filled with understanding as he moved to sit in another chair, while Ron and Hermione occupied a two-person loveseat. “Are you three doing all right? You’re not in any trouble?”

“No, not trouble,” Ron said quickly.

“It is that we had a question for you,” Hermione said, summoning _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ from her bag and showing the inked-in symbol to Mr. Lovegood.

“I remember you wearing it at the wedding,” Harry explained, and nodded as Mr. Lovegood pulled at the chain around his neck, revealing the pendant from beneath his jumper. “We were wondering what it meant. The symbol.”

“Why, it is the sign of the Deathly Hallows, of course,” Mr. Lovegood said patiently, taking his time with the explanation for the three of them. “It is mentioned heavily in _The Tale of the Three Brothers_ , wherein brothers three encounter Death, and are each granted a wish. The first asks for a wand to better any opponent, and Death creates The Elder Wand for him. The second wishes to bring back people from the dead, and Death provides The Resurrection Stone. And, finally, the third brother wishes for safe passage from that place, and Death hands over his own Cloak of Invisibility. With each of these things, if one is in possession of them all, they become the Master of Death.”

“Complications arise, of course,” Hermione put in quietly. “The first brother acts prideful, and he kills another wizard in a duel before he too is killed, and the wand is stolen. The second brother brings back his fiancée, but she is no longer suited to this world, and the brother ends up taking his own life. The final brother has a relatively normal life before he takes off the cloak, passing it onto his son, and welcomes Death like an old friend.”

“True,” Mr. Lovegood says, getting to his feet as the kettle goes off. He pours them each a cup and hands them over, and sighs. “I am worried for my Luna,” he confesses then. “She insisted upon returning to school, and who am I to stop her? I suppose that she is of the mind that she could be protected...”

“Because she’s a Pureblood?” Ron asked.

Mr. Lovegood sighed. “Perhaps that is some of it,” he confessed. “But I truly believe it is because of how others perceive her. They believe that she is a bit...off, as I am. And, because of that, they might believe she won’t resist the new regime.”

“She will,” Harry said quietly, and Mr. Lovegood turned to look at him. “It’s likely because of you, sir, and what you write in _The Quibbler_. She’s got a strong role-model in her life, sir, and she has been taught that free-thinking, and thinking for oneself, is beneficial.”

“Rolf Scamander will be lucky when they become man and wife,” Hermione put in.

Mr. Lovegood smiled. “You three have brought me comfort this day. I thank you.” He hesitated for a moment, almost as if he would say more, but a knock on the door startled him slightly. “I would advise that you three hide,” he whispered, setting down his own mug of tea as he got to his feet. “We have no way of knowing who that might be,” he said, his tone drifting off slightly as he moved from the parlor and towards the front door.

Hermione summoned the cloak from her bag and the three of them got to their feet, throwing it over themselves and moving themselves into a corner. Thinking quickly, Hermione vanished their three teacups, knowing that it truly could be anyone at the door. The three of them heard Mr. Lovegood talking to someone, and a shrill, commanding voice filled their ears, followed by expensive-sounding heels on the wood floor. Stepping into their midst, all three tensed at the curly-blonde haired, green-gown-clad witch that entered the domain, her blue-feathered quick-quotes quill and parchment hovering just beside her, her bright-red lips moving as she spoke quickly and precisely to Mr. Lovegood.

“I must confess, Rita, I was not expecting you until tomorrow...”

“Which is why the element of surprise is on my side, Xeno,” she replied, her tone sounding as if it would be affectionate, were it not for her bossy demeanor as she surveyed the room in which the trio were hiding, and dragged her gloved hand over the surface of a piece of furniture, the name of which Harry couldn’t identify. “Yes... It seems as though young Miss Luna is truly the one who keeps house, leaving it to languish in disrepair whilst she is attending Hogwarts,” she whispered to her quill, who took down everything to the letter.

“What a...” Ron growled through his teeth, but cut himself off as Harry and Hermione promptly elbowed him in the ribs.

“Rita,” Mr. Lovegood said gently, “I hardly think my lack of housekeeping skills is something that the readers of _The Profit_ are interested in,” he said, and the trio could tell he was fighting to keep his temper with her.

Rita twittered before him. “At least you admit you have none, Xeno,” she said, sitting down without being asked as her quill and parchment quickly moved to follow her. “I am just here on behalf of _The Profit_ to ask about the proposition we made you earlier this summer.”

Mr. Lovegood looked uncomfortable. “I thought I had made myself clear in my letters, Rita,” he replied, “and I believed the matter to be settled.”

Rita laughed, conjuring a cup of tea for herself without being asked and proceeding to sip it in a delicate manner. “It can hardly be settled, Xeno, when you yourself seem unwilling to see the entire matter from our point of view.”

“Your point of view, to put it bluntly, Rita, is wrong,” Mr. Lovegood said firmly. “I absolutely refuse to come out against Harry Potter. He has been nothing but kind and considerate towards everyone, not to mention he is a close friend of my Luna...”

“He _is_ the Undesirable Number One, Xeno,” Rita replied in a patronizing manner, cutting him off as if he had not spoken. “The ministry is making up the pamphlets to be distributed any day now, and you’d best see our side on the matter.”

“And why would I do that?” Mr. Lovegood asked, obviously trying not to rise to her. “I have no reason to come out against the boy.”

“Oh,” Rita said, pouting then as she finished her tea, before vanishing the cup. She tutted to herself for a moment, putting on a babyish expression before she got to her feet. “That is really too, too bad, Xeno.”

He blinked, uneasiness spreading through him. “Why?”

“Because... Well, I would hate for anything to happen to your precious Luna, were you to not come forward in support of the new regime,” she replied.

Mr. Lovegood looked stunned. “You would threaten my Luna?” he whispered.

She smiled. “Now I see we understand one another,” she said softly, her words like that of a satisfied snake.

Mr. Lovegood shook his head. “You can’t...”

“Oh, we can,” Rita said simply, “and we will.”

He shook his head. “You wouldn’t...”

“We would,” Rita said. “A prison for young Hogwarts-age students has already been set up in case their parents refuse to cooperate.”

Mr. Lovegood looked sick. “No,” he begged, “please. Not my Luna...”

It was then that Harry couldn’t stand it anymore, and he threw off the cloak and stamped towards Rita, positioning the wand at her throat. “Say one more word on the matter of imprisoning Luna and stripping Mr. Lovegood of his integrity. I dare you,” he said through his teeth.

Rita looked shocked then that none other than Harry Potter was standing before her, but acted quickly and jammed her own wand into his ribs. “I hardly think that you are in the position to make idle threats, Mr. Potter.”

“ _Expelliarmus_!” Ron screamed then, rushing forward from beneath the cloak, and Rita’s wand went flying across the room.

“ _Obliviate_ ,” Hermione said, moving forward at the exact same moment, and the wisps of the memory seemed to come alive from Rita’s mind as she fell backwards and onto the couch, catatonic from the spell.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Harry said quickly, turning to Mr. Lovegood, who looked shaken at the notion that Luna could be hurt.

“You must go,” he said softly then, obviously not wanting to be rude, but wanting to ensure their safety at all costs.

“Sir,” Hermione said, stepping forward. “Considering that Rita Skeeter is on your back to come clean to _The Profit_ , perhaps it would be...”

“Yes,” Mr. Lovegood replied, nodding. “Wipe my memories of today, but just the ones of all of you involved. The last thing I would want is forgetting that Rita was in my house, no matter what her threats are about my Luna...”

Hermione nodded. “I understand,” she said, raising her wand again and pressing it gently into Mr. Lovegood’s temple. “ _Obliviate_ ,” she whispered.

. . .

It was the fourth day of term and Friday had finally arrived, giving the younger years room to breathe now that their leisure time could begin. Draco and Neville, after doing their Head Boy duties for Slytherin and Gryffindor respectively, went to the Room of Requirement, several minutes before Luna and Ginny were due to meet them there, for the first meeting of the D.A. of that school year. Draco found himself smirking at the notion that the room had swathed itself into a combination of colors—red and gold for Neville and silver and green for himself—almost as if the room was consenting to their being a couple, although it was still a secret.

“Even the room wants us together,” Neville joked.

Draco smirked, looking around for a moment before pulling Neville behind a paneled screen, decorated with a lion and a snake entwining its body. He wove his fingers around Neville’s and rested his forehead against his. “I’m going to do whatever I can to get out of the contract with Pansy,” he whispered, and Neville felt his breath hitch.

“But why would you...? Mmmph,” Neville said, suddenly cut off by Draco’s lips meeting his, and he quickly opened his mouth beneath them to let him in. “You said yourself that your parents had a kink for tradition,” he said, allowing Draco to manipulate his neck with his nose so as his lips could caress him there, and he felt awash with delight as Draco chuckled for a moment, before nipping at the sensitive skin there. “I mean, what would happen if they attempted to enforce the contract? It’s magical, isn’t it?”

Draco sighed, pulling back, knowing full well that Neville wouldn’t let it go until he placated him with some sort of answer. “Yeah, they have a kink for tradition,” he said at last, his shoulders slumping. “But two things can trump the contract.”

“What’s that?” Neville asked.

Draco felt a lump forming in his throat then, knowing that once he mentioned this to Neville, it would be out there until they agreed to drop the subject, or he _Obliviate_ ’d him. Knowing he couldn’t do either, he decided to make the best of it and spoke. “The obvious thing is death of one of the bonded,” he replied.

Neville instinctively wrapped his arms around Draco. “That isn’t an option,” he said, his tone firm. “I’m not letting you go again.”

Draco felt a smile playing at his lips again. “Good,” he replied, “because it was game over for me the first time we kissed. I don’t want anyone else.”

“Neither do I,” Neville said with a smile. He hesitated for a moment, looking over Draco’s beautiful face, and bit down hard on his lower lip. “What’s the second thing?”

“A soul-bond.”

Neville blinked. “A what?”

“A soul-bond. It’s an ancient spell,” Draco said slowly, “and only two people who are truly in love can make it, and no other magic can break it.”

“Did your parents have that?”

Draco smirked. “No, of course not. They care about each other, but that was a Pureblood marriage of convenience, with affection growing between them overtime. I don’t know of very many people who have done it successfully... Lily and James Potter, certainly had one, and it’s been noted as one of the final successful ones in wizard history. Remus Lupin and Tonks as well have one, and it worked for them...”

“What does it entail?”

“The witch and wizard—well, both wizards, in this case—swear to love, cherish, be loyal to, and honor and keep their significant other until death. Then they say the spell, and no magic or entity can ever break it.”

“What’s the spell?” Neville asked, rapt.

“ _Amoris Vinculum_ ,” Draco replied.

Neville took in Draco once more, and a smile slowly formed onto his lips. “I’ll do it,” he said without a moment’s hesitation.

Draco blinked. “Sorry?”

Neville slipped his hand into Draco’s. “I’ll enter into a soul-bond with you.”

“It’s not that simple,” Draco said quickly, his heart pounding so hard, he felt as if it would jump out of his chest. “The people have to really consider...”

“I have considered it,” Neville said.

Draco swallowed. “Well, of course you have,” he said quickly—he was going about this all wrong, and he wanted, needed, Neville to understand that this couldn’t be taken lightly. “If one of us is unsure about this, the spell won’t work. Even worse, one of us could die because this is very ancient and respectable magic...”

“I love you,” Neville said, his tone firm.

Draco sighed. “I know you might think that, but...”

Neville sighed, knowing that there was one way to settle this. “Cast _Imperio_ on me.”

Draco’s eyes widened. “What?”

“We don’t have any Veritaserum here, so this is the next best thing,” Neville replied with a shrug and a smile. “Cast it on me, and order me to tell you the truth.”

It was then that there was a small clatter from the other side of the screen, and Draco and Neville quickly moved out from behind there. In the center of the room was a highly-polished and ornate cherry wood table, and, placed upon it, was a silver crystal-cut bottle. The two wizards stepped closer, amazed, and Neville laughed aloud at the notion of what was before them.

“Three guesses as to what that is,” he muttered.

“It won’t do any good,” Draco said quickly, and Neville turned to look over at him. “The last thing I want is you walking around without the antidote.”

No sooner had Draco spoken than a golden bottle, also crystal-cut, appeared on the tabletop beside the Veritaserum. Draco stammered for a moment, and very nearly knocked the silver one out of Neville’s hand as he watched him lift it. Neville sighed, knowing that there was one way to get Draco to believe him, and tipped the bottle to his lips.

“How do you feel?” Draco asked a moment later, his tone uneasy.

“All right,” Neville said with a slight shrug, returning the bottle back onto the table and stoppering it. “Doesn’t hurt...”

“Good to know,” Draco said quietly; he fully intended on taking some himself after this to prove his loyalty to Neville. “Neville Longbottom, I order you to tell me, Draco Malfoy, your true and intimate feelings about me.”

Neville smiled slowly then as the potion rushed through him; normally, people would be afraid to speak the truth, but not Neville, and certainly not in this. He wanted, _needed_ , to speak the truth in this, because the man standing before him meant everything to him. “I love you,” Neville said with a bright smile. “I’ve been in love with you for almost a year. Given the choice, I would spend the rest of my life with you.”

Draco sighed then, the contentment rushing through him at the notion that Neville hadn’t been lying before, even without the Veritaserum. He nodded then, and lifted the antidote towards his lover, which Neville took willingly, and sipped it. He watched him re-stopper the bottle and return it to the table, and found that he soon had returned to normal. “You all right?” he asked him then.

Neville nodded. “Never better.”

“Good,” Draco replied, turning back to the table.

“What are you doing?!” Neville demanded as Draco lifted the silver bottle.

“Proving myself to you,” he replied and, without any hesitation, tipped the rest of the bottle of Veritaserum into his mouth and down his throat.

“Draco!” Neville cried out.

“Hmmm?” Draco asked, feeling the slight numbing effects in his bloodstream.

“Are you all right?”

Draco smiled lazily. “All right,” he said softly. “All right...”

Neville sighed, knowing that it was now or never. “Draco Malfoy, I want you to tell me, Neville Longbottom, about your true and intimate feelings for me,” he ordered.

Draco continued to smile at him. “I love you more than the moon loves the sun,” he replied. “I love you more than Death Eaters love You-Know-Who. I felt like dying when I held my wand on you when the Inquisitorial Squad caught you lot in here during fifth-year. All I’ve wanted, all I’ve needed, was to be loved and accepted by someone and you’ve done that. You didn’t deliberately seek me out because of my blood status—you sought me out because you fell for me, just like I fell for you. This love won’t diminish; I’ll love you for the rest of my life, and I’ll do all I can to make you happy.”

Neville smiled slowly then, tears entering his eyes as he mutely handed Draco the golden bottle of Veritaserum antidote. He watched as his lover drank it without hesitation, and, as soon as his expression had returned to normal, Neville threw his arms around him, kissing him for all he was worth, never wanting to let go. “I have to enter into a soul-bond with you now,” he said, kissing Draco over and over, like it was an oath.

“What?” Draco whispered.

“I love you,” Neville said, his eyes meeting Draco’s. “If this is a wizard’s equivalent to marriage then I want it, and I want it with you. Not only because it gets you out of your blasted contract with Pansy, but because I get you.”

“You’ll always get me,” Draco replied, cradling Neville’s face in his hands. “And do you know why? Because I love you, too.”

Neville kept right on smiling as he wove his hands around Draco’s. “I, Neville Frank Longbottom, do solemnly swear to love, cherish, be loyal to, and honor and keep you, Draco Lucius Malfoy, until death do us part,” he vowed to him.

Draco smiled slowly then, feeling as if a massive weight had been lifted from his shoulders at the notion that, not only did he no longer have to marry Pansy, but he was going to be marrying the love of his life instead. “I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, swear to love, cherish, be loyal to, and honor and keep you, Neville Frank Longbottom, until death do us part,” he replied.

“ _Amoris Vinculum_ ,” the wizards said together.

At that moment, silver light flowed through Draco up to the surface around his body, while Neville himself became swathed in a golden light. Their magic cores had left their bodies momentarily to meet one another, almost as if they wanted to judge the bond for themselves. In that moment, the cores met, and suddenly grew to the point that beams blasted from their magic and illuminated the two of them in what seemed to be an angelic, holy light. Draco and Neville never took their eyes from one another as their magic joined, and they knew, between them, that this spell could never be broken.

. . .

Three more days in the forest were enough to drive Harry insane; this time, however, they did not go to the Forest of Dean, but to New Forest, in Hampshire, and were situated by the Beaulieu River near Pottern Ford, which would have been far more lovely in spring or summer. However, the red and gold leaves on the trees overhead comforted Harry, although he would find himself staring up at the sky for long hours, wondering if Severus was staring at it, too, and wondering where he was, and thinking of him. He would constantly leave the tent and sit by the river which, after a few customary Cleaning Spells by Hermione, was warranted to be safe to drink, but all Harry truly wanted was to go for a dip with Severus.

“Harry.”

He turned at the voice behind him, and saw Hermione standing there, some more roots in her hand for yet another stew. “Yeah, Hermione?”

“Are you all right? You’ve been quiet.”

Harry sighed, squaring his shoulders and pushing himself up from where he’d been leaning back against a tree by the river. “It might be a stupid idea...”

“What is it, mate?” Ron asked, walking out of the tent, looking concerned.

“I think there’s maybe something in Godric’s Hollow.”

Hermione blinked. “Godric’s Hollow?”

“Blimey, mate. That’s where your mum and dad...”

“Yeah,” Harry said, cutting him off, and, thankfully, Ron didn’t appear to be insulted. “I think we should go there and look around. I think there’s something there...”

Hermione sighed. “It could be dangerous...”

“We have the cloak, Hermione,” Harry replied.

She bit her lip. “We don’t really fit well beneath it anymore—Ron’s a bit too tall, and your shoulders leave some space to be desired,” she said with a small giggle, and Ron rolled his eyes at the compliment she’d paid Harry. “But, if you think we should...”

Harry nodded. “Yeah. I think we should go.”

“All right, then,” Hermione said, putting the gathered roots into her bag, before spelling the tent into it as well. She put her bag around her wrist before offering her hands to Ron and Harry, and then they Apparated.

Godric’s Hollow had rows upon rows of beautiful houses of similar architecture, along with cobblestone walkways as opposed to concrete sidewalks and streets. There were little pubs, as well as bookshops, restaurants, antique stores, and other businesses, and, as they walked along, they came upon the fenced graveyard. Something pulled Harry towards it then, and he dropped Hermione’s hand and stepped inside, wandering through the headstones; they were in alphabetical order, so it wasn’t too time-consuming to find the one he was looking for. His breath hitched in his throat when he came to it, and he very nearly dropped to his knees.

The headstone of James Henry Potter and Lily Josephine Evans Potter stood before him, and Harry found as if he wasn’t as prepared as he initially thought. Sure, he’d considered coming here before, and now that the Trace wasn’t on him, he could easily Apparate here whenever he wanted. The lump in his throat didn’t deteriorate as Ron and Hermione came up behind him, still holding hands, but had the thought to remain silent, allowing Harry to grieve properly for the first time. Now that he had the physical reminder of it in front of him—and not just his mother screaming and a flash of green light in his thoughts—it truly hit him, almost for the first time, that they were gone.

There were some fallen autumn leaves upon the stone itself, and he nodded his thanks to Ron, who cleared them off and away. A stone vase was erect upon the small base shelf of the stone, and Hermione considerately put some white lilies into it, along with some water. The three of them stood back then, just staring at the words that confirmed the death of Harry’s mother and father on the thirty-first of October, sixteen years previously.

There was the tell-tale sound of a crunch from outside the graveyard then, and Harry seemed to stiffen automatically as he raised his eyes. Walking down the street beyond was the hunched figure of a woman in the setting sun, and Harry felt himself automatically feeling for Ron’s and Hermione’s hands. Something about the woman seemed familiar; Harry didn’t know if he’d met her, or merely seen a picture of her before, but he knew that she was indeed familiar. Almost as if she sensed his question when he looked over at her, it was Hermione who broke the silence that had settled around them.

“That’s Bathilda Bagshot,” she whispered.

“She knew Dumbledore,” Harry said firmly, and dropped their hands again, hearing them on his heels as he moved after her.

“Harry, wait,” Ron said, but Harry didn’t listen, tearing off after the hunch woman as she turned around and made her way down the leaf-strewn street.

They arrived at their destination, around the corner and down a small lane from the graveyard, and she stood back and allowed the three of them inside her house. Hermione was quickly overwhelmed by the sight of the bookshelves, and Ron by the impressive tea tray on the coffee table, and although Bathilda said nothing, she gestured to them both, allowing the both of them to go where they liked. Harry remained standing back, on the edge of the small living room, not knowing what to do, and merely smiled at her.

It was then that Bathilda pointed somewhere towards the back of the house; turning towards Ron and Hermione, who had their mouth around their second biscuit and their hands around a thick volume respectively, Harry thought it would be all right to leave them for a moment. To his utter shock, Bathilda didn’t follow him, and, rather than question it, Harry merely traipsed through the house on his own, looking at the combination of photographs and newspaper clippings which adored every surface of every wall.

One photograph made him stop short then; it was black and white, obviously captured by an old wizarding camera, and in it stood two devastatingly handsome young wizards, dressed proudly in old-fashioned dress robes, and were either smiling at one another, or the camera itself. Beneath the photograph was an inscription, and it made Harry’s eyes widen as he took in the names of the young men presumably pictured. It read: _Gellert Grindelwald and Albus Dumbledore_ , _1899_. It was amazing to Harry that Dumbledore had truly been as old as he had when Severus had killed him the year before, and yet there was something behind the other wizard’s eyes—the one called Grindelwald—that was equal parts unnerving and unsettling to Harry. While his former headmaster appeared to give the same expression to Grindelwald that he had often found himself giving to Severus, and vice versa, Grindelwald seemed to have a manipulative demeanor, and seemed to be a wizard who would strive for ultimate power at all costs.

“HARRY!”

The word cut off his wave of thinking then, as Hermione’s scream sliced through the silence, and Ron’s curses filled his ears in the next moment. The very next thing that filled his ears was the sound of a hissing snake, and Harry felt his heart beating in his ears as he ran back down the narrow hallway and back into the living room, to a scene from hell. The coffee table had been tipped over, and its surface had smashed; Hermione had dropped the book she was holding in a hurry, and was cradling her wrist, and it was then that Harry saw the word _Mudblood_ seemed to be etched into her skin, likely from a dark magic spell. Ron, meanwhile, had a shard of glass in his palm for protection, but his blood, like Hermione’s, dripped to the floor, as it had proceeded to cut into his palm.

Standing in between Harry, Ron, and Hermione was the body of Bathilda Bagshot, which seemed to be nothing more than a skin, as Nagini, Voldemort’s snake, was escaping from it and staring daggers at Ron and Hermione. She hissed loudly in anger as she prowled closer to them, and Ron slashed the air with his piece of glass from the coffee table, but knew in his heart that such a thing would do no good. Harry’s own wand came out then, and, knowing that he would only have one shot at this, and knowing that his years of playing Quidditch would ensure that he would have to aim just right, he aimed it at the snake.

“ _Avada Kedavra_!” he screamed, the bolt of green light flowing from the tip of his wand, and landing straight on Nagini’s head.

Hermione let out a scream then as Nagini’s lifeless body fell to the floor, and threw herself into Ron’s arms as he dropped the piece of glass. Harry felt himself shaking then as he lowered his eyes at Nagini, and felt himself stiffen automatically then as he fell to his knees, his scar burning as brightly as a fire on a winter night. He swallowed then, trying to breathe, as he lowered his eyes, realizing that his wand had snapped in two from the impact of the one spell he’d vowed never to use.

. . .

Severus Snape Apparated into Godric’s Hollow, after his mark burned for him to be summoned there two days later. He walked into the Bagshot residence and saw the Dark Lord standing there, devastated, as he gazed down at the lifeless body of that snake of his. He raised his eyes towards Severus then, and spoke.

“You must find who did this, Severus,” he whispered, his tone broken.

Severus nodded, bowing to him. “I shall, my lord, I swear it.”

“I know you do,” the Dark Lord replied, gathering the snake to him and nodding his head. “I shall go to Riddle House to bury her. I shall want your progress report as soon as you find something, anything, relating to her death.”

“Of course, my lord.”

“Until then, Severus,” he said softly, and Disapparated.

Severus swallowed then, knowing full well that there was only one person that Nagini wanted dead as much as her master, and everything in his bones told him that Harry, Ron, and Hermione had been in that house. He stepped back outside into the late summer evening, walking down the street and towards the one place he’d vowed never to set foot in again. As he came to the ramshackle remains of what once had been the Potter’s house, he stepped in through the gate without hesitation, opening up the front door and stepping inside effortlessly.

Harry was waiting for him, and flew into his arms then as soon as Severus had shut the door behind him, his lips finding the taller Slytherin’s immediately. “You got my Patronus?” he asked him, his voice shaking as he pulled back from him. His green eyes searched his lover’s black ones, almost as if he was afraid that he’d deflected from the Light again, but the look his former potions professor gave him set him at ease.

“I did, so sorry I couldn’t come sooner,” he replied. “The Dark Lord summoned me to the Bagshot residence beforehand.”

Harry felt himself grow white then, to the point where he nearly looked sick. “He summoned you there?” he asked. “Why?”

Severus sighed. “It seems as though someone has killed the snake.”

“It was me,” Harry replied, his voice small, and Severus stared at him. “She was going after Ron and Hermione; I had to stop her. I went with the first curse I could think of that would ultimately stop her, and...and...”

“What, Harry? What is it?”

“She was a Horcrux,” Harry whispered, and Severus’s grip tightened onto him. “I could feel it when I killed her.”

“Fuck,” Severus whispered, dragging Harry closer to him, his lips finding his. “I’m so sorry that you felt as if that was your last resort.”

“I broke my vow that I made when I became a wizard,” Harry said brokenly.

“A vow?” Severus asked, pulling back so as he could get a better read on his face. “What vow are you talking about?”

“I vowed never to use one of those curses,” he said softly, and, reaching into his pocket, he produced his wand, each end still tied together by the phoenix feather, but it wasn’t a great color any longer. Indeed, all magical properties of the thing had seemed to die with Harry using the Killing Curse, so the feather was an ashen-black color.

“Don’t blame yourself,” Severus whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead and holding him close, his fear bubbling to the surface as he thought of Harry facing the Dark Lord wandless, and it terrified him completely. “We will figure it out together.”

Harry sighed, inhaling his lover’s scent, and feeling at peace. “Tell me,” he whispered then, his voice muffled, and Severus wondered if he’d heard him correctly.

“What?” he asked.

Harry pulled back and looked up at him. “Please, tell me something,” he begged. “I want... No, I need to know something that puts you in the Light.”

Severus sighed. “Harry, we’ve been over this. I cannot. Now is not the time...”

“I _have_ to know something!” Harry demanded. “Dumbledore kept me in the dark for years, and then expected me to blindly trust him with this mission. I’ve killed four Horcruxes already, and I feel I should be given some information from my lover about it! Please.”

Severus stiffened then and shook his head. “Harry, no matter how much I care about you, I simply cannot give you more information than you already have. No matter how much I want to, I cannot. It was Dumbledore’s last wish for me to keep it from you until the Dark Lord becomes absolutely vulnerable. I won’t put you in danger, Harry. I won’t.”

“How dare you?!” Harry screeched then, throwing Severus backwards in a moment of anger. “I would do anything for you, Severus, anything! And do you know why?! Because I’m fucking in love with you!” he yelled, the tears forming in his eyes and streaming down his face. “I would take each Unforgivable Curse for you, and willingly, because I cannot see my life without you in it for a moment longer! But I can’t keep going with this back and forth constantly with you, Severus, I can’t! I’m ready to make a commitment where we don’t keep anything from the other anymore, but, apparently, you’re not!”

Severus stood back then, and shook his head. “Harry, please listen...”

“No!” he yelled. “You’re just a coward! A goddamn coward!” He then ran into the other room then, and Severus ran after him, only to be greeted by the sight of him Disapparating with Ron and Hermione, the hole in his heart growing far greater than it had when he’d lost Lily all those years ago.


	7. I Let Him Steal Into My Melancholy Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well my lovelies, this chapter is upon us at last. Can't wait to hear your thoughts about Harry and Severus's first time! Love you all, and thank you for reading!

The trio landed in the marsh outside the Burrow, and quickly moved into the reeds surrounding it, with Hermione wordlessly casting several Cleaning Spells to ensure that they were at least presentable when they announced themselves to the Weasley matriarch. Harry had remained silent since he’d yelled at Severus just moments before; his voice was raw from what he’d said, and his temples pounded in a headache. Ron and Hermione just stared at Harry; having heard his conversation with their former potions master, they wondered if and when he’d be able to discuss it with the pair of them, however, they wouldn’t be holding their breath.

“Let’s go,” Harry muttered, and Hermione squeaked at the notion that he so readily seemed to speak, but Ron helpfully pulled her along towards the house.

Harry held back, watching the pair of them walk towards the Burrow, and remembered the talk he and Severus had had in these very reeds. His hand reached out and caressed them; they were no longer green and tall as they had been during the night of the wedding, rather, they were shriveled and brown-looking, and Harry knew that, within a few weeks, they would fall down into the earth for winter. Shrugging it off, he forced himself to catch up with Ron and Hermione, who had, by this time, reached the front door, and Ron summoned it open, and they stepped inside, only to be blasted with the scent of Molly Weasley’s cooking.

“Arthur!” came a shout from the kitchen. “That you? Done already with tinkering with those Muggle contraptions of yours?” Molly joked as she bustled into the living room from the kitchen, a tea towel in her hands, only to stop dead as she spotted the trio. She let out a little shout then as Harry shut the door behind him, and rushed forward, yanking the three of them into her arms and kissing them each on the forehead. “Oh, my dears!” she cried out, pulling them back to look at them. “I was worried, so worried—”

“Mum, give us room to breathe,” Ron joked, and Molly finally let them go, watching as Ron put an arm around Hermione’s waist, and gripped Harry’s shoulder.

“Well, supper’s on,” she said at last, fixing a smile to her lips. “Come along, then,” she went on, and ushered the three of them towards the kitchen table with mismatched chairs, and waved them all into seats. “Arthur should be along shortly,” she continued in a merry manner, putting a golden-brown chicken into the center of the table, along with a heaping bowl of boiled potatoes, and a tureen of gravy. Next, she put down a platter of roasted veg, and Harry saw Ron’s mouth beginning to water at the sight of Molly Weasley preparing a jam roly-poly for their pudding, as the front door closed and opened again, and the trio promptly jumped to their feet as Arthur Weasley stepped into the kitchen.

“Good evening, my love!” Arthur Weasley boomed, but stopped short as he caught sight of Harry, Ron, and Hermione sitting at the dinner table. “Ron!” he shouted then, dropping his bag and crossing over to his youngest son, whereupon he yanked him into a tight hug. Next, he embraced Hermione, who accepted the affection, and then he crossed over to shake Harry’s hand, before he thought better of it and yanked him into his arms as well. “Good to have you boys home, and Hermione as well,” he said, nodding at the three of them in an affectionate manner before crossing over to Molly, kissing her cheek. “Ah, jam roly-poly, how wonderful, my dear, wonderful,” he said, before taking his seat at the head of the table.

“You’ve certainly done a very good job at hiding,” Molly put in, finishing their pudding before she moved to sit at the foot of the table, while Arthur pulled the chicken towards him and began to carve it. “We were all worried for you.”

“Mum, really,” Ron whined, “we’ve been fine.”

Molly tutted. “A mother always worries for her son, Ron.” She hesitated for a moment before she turned to Hermione. “I do hope your parents aren’t too worried, dear.”

Hermione lowered her eyes, her face turning white. “They actually don’t know.”

“Don’t know?” asked Arthur, levitating the pieces of carved chicken onto their various plates in a careful manner. “I’m sorry, my dear, but, given that you are their only child...”

“They’re under the impression that they don’t have any children, actually, Arthur,” she said, in that same quiet voice.

“Darling, what do you mean?” Molly asked, her dark eyes filling with concern. “I am afraid I don’t understand.”

Hermione sighed, leaning into Ron as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I made sure that they would be safe, when the Death Eaters inevitably came for them,” she said softly. “I did the only thing I knew how, to ensure it.”

“Meaning?” Arthur asked.

“I _Obliviate_ ’d myself from their memories,” she said simply. “I sent them to Australia so that they couldn’t be found, under assumed names. It was probably the worst day of my life,” she admitted, and Harry had known that the previous worst days had involved when Ron had chosen Lavender Brown as his girlfriend in their sixth-year, or when Dumbledore had cancelled final exams in second-year. “I had no idea what else I could do, I’m afraid, and now I’m worried that, once all of this is over, that I cannot reverse it.”

Molly reached out then and took Hermione’s hand, and the younger girl raised her eyes towards who everyone assumed would be her future mother-in-law. “My dear, I am so sorry. If it is any comfort, if it cannot be reversed, Arthur and I would be happy for you to adopt us as your mother and father. After all, considering your closeness with Ron, we only assumed...”

“Mum!” Ron shouted then, turning red to his ears. “Please!”

“Oh all right, all right,” she said, patting Hermione’s hand before letting it go. “Just know that the offer is on the table, dear.”

“Thank you, Molly,” Hermione said, her tone soft, and yet a smile played at her lips.

Harry sighed, nodding when he was given permission to eat, and eagerly cut into his piece of chicken, shutting his eyes for a moment. “Beats Hermione’s root stew,” he said.

Ron guffawed from across the table. “That’s what I was thinking!”

“Now, really, boys,” Molly chided gently as she shook her head, and Harry turned to look over at her, as did Ron. “I am quite sure that Hermione did the best she could.” Molly turned to Hermione and smiled. “I’ll make sure to give you copies of my notes on what is safe and not safe to eat in a forest setting, if that is all right with you, my dear, for witches and wizards have different food tolerances than Muggles.”

“Oh, yes,” Hermione said, nodding. “Last thing I’d want is for either Harry or Ron to take ill. It would be a tragedy for my brother and boyfriend.”

The five of them remained around the table for hours, Molly only getting up after dinner to fetch their pudding and some tea essentials. After eating and drinking well, she sent the boys upstairs to Ron’s bedroom, and Hermione into Ginny’s room. However, as Molly and Arthur watched the trio go their separate ways, they knew full well that Ron would likely be sneaking downstairs to join Hermione, and they would not stop him.

Harry thanked Ron for casting a Cleaning Spell on him, and lay back in the bed he had always used when visiting the Burrow. It was quite an upgrade from the cot he’s gotten used to in the tent these last several weeks. “What do you make of being home?”

Ron shrugged. “Beats the tent,” he muttered.

Harry smirked. “You’re just lucky to have your girlfriend with you.”

Ron turned over on his side to face Harry, who did the same. “You missing that greasy git from the dungeons?”

Without hesitation, Harry threw a pillow at him, and Ron shouted with surprise. “I don’t call him that, you know,” he said.

“Yeah? You call him Snape?”

“No,” Harry said, shaking his head. “I call him Severus.”

. . .

The second meeting of Dumbledore’s Army concluded that Friday night, with all of the younger students flitting off unseen to their dormitories before curfew. Ginny was due to leave the Room of Requirement very soon, as she was merely a Prefect, and it was her night to patrol hallways with fellow Gryffindor Prefect, Dean Thomas, who was considered an anomaly, as he was a Prefect during his seventh-year. As Draco, Neville, Luna, and Ginny sat around the room, talking about how the lessons had gone that night, Neville and Draco knew that it was high time they came clean. Draco had become friendly with Luna and Ginny over the last few weeks, with Luna altogether pleased that Draco had gone to bat for Neville, although Ginny was still a bit shocked at the situation.

“Tonight’s younger years certainly are grasping the spells,” Draco put in, and Neville inwardly beamed that his soul-bonded was getting along so well with his friends. “I’m glad they can have this as an alternative to the...erm...new curriculum this year.”

“As am I,” Luna replied, that dreamy look in her face one that Draco had slowly but surely come to the conclusion was one of satisfaction. “I suppose this is going to overshadow their Hogwarts years, unfortunately. Let’s make the best of it, for their sake.”

“I just wish things could’ve been different,” Ginny said quietly. “Less complicated. Times are changing so drastically that I’m beginning to feel like I can’t count on much these days, save for these meetings.”

“Things’ll get better, Ginny,” Neville told her. “I mean, you’re seeing Dean again, aren’t you? I hear that’s going well.”

Ginny smiled. “Well enough, I suppose, now that he’s not constantly looking over his shoulder for Harry to sweep me off my feet.”

“He’s actually worried about Potter?” Draco asked.

Ginny shrugged. “Well, I think he could be, on some level. After all, Harry is his friend, and he doesn’t want any harm to come to him...”

“Do you think Dean is who you’ll end up with, Ginny?” Luna asked. “He is a very nice young man, or so I’ve seen, and once we reach our sixth-year, we usually have a general idea of what we may want in a partner.”

Ginny smiled once again. “I think he might be, yes. Ever since Harry and I split up, things have been calmer, certainly. And with Dean, it’s less complicated, for sure. We’re stealing little moments of happiness, which certainly help, now that Snape is in charge.” She hesitated for a moment before she turned to Draco. “He’s not all bad, is he? Snape.”

Draco sighed. “I like to think not,” he said quietly. “He and Father were always on good terms, but things have been different since Father’s release. Father’s always running about, doing You-Know-Who’s bidding, and now that he doesn’t have to hide it, he’s not nearly as exhausted as he once was. But Snape? Surely there’s some good in him—I’ve seen it. From the time I was a little boy, he’d even smile.”

“Smile?!” Neville demanded, and burst out into laughter. “Snape?!”

“Well, yes,” Draco replied, turning to look at his lover with a perplexed expression. “When things are relaxed and you’re comfortable in that particular environment, I can easily see why smiling might be seen as appropriate.”

Ginny watched the movements of the two young wizards, and felt her red brows knitting together in a moment of concentration. “Something the two of you want to tell us?”

“Yes,” Luna said, as Neville and Draco looked away from each other to focus on the two of them once again. “Something we need to know?”

Neville sighed, knowing that the day would come eventually, and was fully prepared to hide it as long as Draco wanted to, but felt a moment of surprise as he felt Draco’s hand in his, and the warmth that spread through him as Draco took his hand was overwhelming. “Draco,” he said softly to him then, “we don’t have to.”

“They’re your friends,” Draco replied, “and you trust them. Which makes them my friends and they have my trust as well.” He turned back to Luna and Ginny again, and took a deep breath before he spoke. “Neville and I are together.”

“You’re _what_?!” Ginny demanded.

“How wonderful,” Luna said, clasping her hands together, her brown eyes filling with something akin to elation. “That’s great news. I’m so happy for you.”

“It’s not like I’m under _Imperio_ or anything, Gin,” Neville said gently to the youngest Weasley, who was looking from Draco to Neville and back again. “Draco and I willingly entered into this relationship and we’re happy.”

“But... But he’s got an engagement contract to Pansy,” Ginny sputtered, knowing full well what could happen if the Malfoy family found out that, not only was their son and heir involved with somebody else, but a male to boot. “What will the Malfoys have to say about this, Draco?” she asked, her voice filled with concern.

Draco blinked. “You care for my safety?”

“Neville clearly loves you,” Ginny pointed out, “and you’ve become much more polite than you have in the past, and you’ve stated that we are your friends and have earned your trust. Suffice it to say I would be cold-blooded if I had no regard for you.”

Draco nodded. “Thank you, Ginny.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” she told him, her voice firm. “How are you going to get out of your pre-contract with Pansy?”

“I, too, am skeptical,” Luna said quietly. “I haven’t heard of many things that can trump a contract like that, for it is so very binding. The only thing that readily comes to mind is the death of one of the people involved in the vows of the contract. I saw Pansy at dinner not three hours ago, and you, Draco, are sitting here very much alive. So, death, it seems, has been ruled out of the equation.”

“However did you manage to get out of this contract, then?” Ginny asked.

“Simple,” Neville said. “Draco and I have entered into a soul-bond.”

“A soul-bond?!” Ginny squeaked. “Isn’t that akin to marriage?”

“In layman’s terms, yes,” Draco said softly. “Since Neville and I are of age, we were permitted to enter into such a bond without express permission from anyone but ourselves.”

“Another part of the soul-bond is, of course, love,” Luna said softly.

Neville nodded. “Yes. And there is great love between us, I assure you,” he said, more for Ginny’s benefit than for Luna’s. “The spell of the soul-bond wouldn’t have worked otherwise, I’m afraid.”

“Which means that Neville is my husband, and I am his,” Draco said, concluding the story of their coupling, leaving out the consummation portion, however.

“So, does this mean what I think it does?” Ginny asked. “This means that your contract with Pansy is null and void?”

“From the moment Neville’s and my magic combined, yes.”

Ginny smiled. “Well, then, as long as the pair of you are happy, I am pleased for you.” She turned to Draco then, and narrowed her eyes slightly. “However, if you hurt Neville in any way, Mr. Malfoy, I will come after you.”

Draco smiled slowly. “While this is not my intention, I assure you, Ginny, your concerns are warranted, and I indeed understand your meaning.”

“Good,” Ginny said, leaning back onto the couch. “So, when may we expect children from the two of you?” she asked, and Draco and Neville turned pink, while Luna merely laughed merrily at the insinuation.

. . .

The next three weeks were filled with an abundance of time between the trio spent in the attic, which Ron and Hermione had conjured comforts like carpeted floors and pillows, during the Death Eater raids that continued throughout the month of September. Since Molly and Arthur Weasley were Purebloods, however, the Death Eaters usually left the Burrow in a hurry after a few cursory glances. It was annoying, however, to shove himself into the attic, for Harry remembered his days in the cupboard, and other unsavory thoughts as well.

Whenever Harry found himself remembering what Uncle Vernon had did to him, he would replace those thoughts with happy memories. More often than not, he would think of Severus and all the things they could do together once the war was over, and he no longer had a Dark master to serve. He imagined them in their own house, together, with lots of love making involved, and just being happy, something both of them had only had fleeting moments of over the years.

As Harry considered these things, Hermione and Ron were discussing how Harry could get his hands on the Elder Wand. Of course, this involved knowing where the Elder Wand was, and who had supposedly possessed it last. Knowing Voldemort, it was likely that the Dark Wizard was looking for it as well, meaning that they could be running short on time.

“Honestly, Ronald, what did your mother need to see you about so urgently?” Hermione demanded when, on their twenty-first day at the Burrow, she was packing their belongings in her beaded bag so as they could set off again.

“Just the papers for you, Hermione,” Ron said, and handed them over, and she gave a small shout as she looked at them. “She didn’t want you to forget.”

Hermione sighed and kissed Ron on the cheek. “I’ll go and thank her now, then,” she said, and, taking her beaded bag with her, headed downstairs.

Harry watched Hermione go before he turned back to Ron. “That’s not all your mother wanted to see you for, is it?” he asked.

Ron grinned. “You can read me like a book, mate.”

“Well?” Harry wanted to know. “What was it?”

Ron quickly casted a Silencing Charm around then before he stepped closer. “Don’t tell ‘Mione about this...”

“For the love of Merlin, I won’t,” Harry said, grinning. “What’s happened?”

Ron reached into his pocket without hesitation, producing a box, which he opened quickly, and showed Harry what lay inside. On a bed of crushed black silk lay a golden ring, with a circular ruby as its center stone, surrounded by smaller diamonds, which spilled downwards onto the golden band. “It was my grandmother Prewett’s ring,” Ron explained.

Harry smiled. “So, you’re going to ask her?”

“Life’s short, mate, and there’s a war on,” Ron said simply, snapping the box closed and returning it to his pocket. “Last thing I want is Hermione being unaware of how much I love her, and want her to be my wife.”

Harry nodded. “I can understand that.”

Ron smiled. “Glad you can,” he replied. “Listen... You’ll be Best Man, won’t you?”

Harry’s eyes widened. “You serious?”

Ron nodded. “Of course.”

“Yeah, I will!” Harry shouted, throwing his arms around Ron. “Just let me know the time and the place and, as long as I’m not battling You-Know-Who, I’ll be there.”

Ron laughed. “I think Hermione would agree with that,” he replied.

. . .

Neville, Ginny, Luna, and Draco had gone to the Room of Requirement early that Sunday evening in the wake of Draco informing them that the Death Eaters had entrusted the Sword of Gryffindor to Snape. Gleaning the information that Dumbledore had left it to Harry in his own will the summer before, the four of them came to the direct conclusion that the sword was not where it should be, and they needed to figure out a way to get it back to Harry. As far as getting it, they weren’t concerned about; it was the action of getting it to Harry that presented a problem, but they would worry about that later.

“I managed to find out the password to the headmaster’s office,” Luna said softly, as this had been her part of the plan.

“What is it?” Ginny asked.

“Emerald Light,” Luna replied. “Likely for Slytherin, I suppose.”

“Good guess,” Draco said, nodding. “Other than the Death Eater’s report of where the sword currently resides—in the office itself—I have it on good authority from my father where Snape will be this evening.”

“Where?” Neville asked.

“He’s summoned for dinner at Malfoy Manor, and he’s _graciously_ accepted,” Draco said, and rolled his eyes in an annoyed manner, and was rewarded with a kiss from Neville. “I assume a great many Death Eaters will be in attendance of course.”

“Have the Carrows been invited?” Ginny asked.

Draco nodded. “They were, and accepted as well.”

“Why were you not invited, Draco?” Luna asked.

Draco grinned. “Because I am not a Death Eater,” he said simply, “and Father was able to inform the Dark Lord that it would be seen as suspicious if I was not at school on a Sunday night, just mere hours before Monday classes began.”

“Sound reasoning,” Neville put in.

“We’d better hurry, though,” Draco said quickly. “The chefs at Malfoy Manor are trained to be prompt and, if we don’t go through each step of the plan as precisely and quickly as possible, we could miss our opportunity.”

“We certainly don’t want that,” Ginny said.

“No,” Luna agreed. “Best get a move-on, then.”

“Dean and Seamus have roused the first-years to distract McGonagall, Flitwick, Slughorn, and Sprout, so we’ve nothing to worry about,” Ginny continued.

“Smart wizard, that boyfriend of yours,” Draco said.

Ginny gleamed at the compliment. “I’d say the same to you, Draco, but it seems as if Neville is your husband.”

Neville tucked his hand into Draco’s. “That statement is indeed correct.”

The four young wizards and witches left the Room of Requirement soon thereafter, when Seamus’s fox Patronus informed them that their part of the plan had been set in motion. They hurried along the corridor and up the massive staircase, leading directly to the headmaster’s office and quarters, and, very soon, they stood before the gargoyle, guarding the entrance and staircase beyond.

“Emerald Light,” Luna said clearly.

The gargoyle quickly shifted to the side, permitting the four of them to pass, and they rushed up the staircase and towards the door. Ginny whispered the Unlocking Charm and they stepped inside the office, knowing full well that it wouldn’t be as simple as summoning the sword via the _Accio_ charm. So, thus began their search of looking in cabinets and cases throughout the room in an attempt to find it.

“It’s here!” came Neville’s shout a moment later, and there he stood, beside a suit of armor, where a cherry wood case held valuable-looking objects.

“Brilliant,” Ginny replied, stepping forward. She held out her wand without hesitation and quickly whispered, “ _Alohomora_ ,” and the case clicked open. Reaching upwards, she grabbed the ruby hilt of the sword, and gasped slightly—it was much heavier than she’d first imagined it to be, and recalled seeing it as an eleven-year-old in the Chamber of Secrets.

“We’d better go,” Draco said, and Luna made her way towards the door of the office. “Last thing we want is to be caught.”

“He’s right,” Neville said, shutting the case for Ginny, who easily stepped around the shutting door and moved to follow Luna. “All right?” he asked her.

Ginny nodded. “Yeah. One of us can floo to the Burrow, see if my mum knows anything about where they are. Then, maybe we can figure out a way to get this to Harry.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Luna said softly.

As the four of them moved to open the door of the office then, a rush of something from behind them caught them off-guard, and they were very surprised to see none other than Severus Snape join them in the room. Presumably, he had finished his dinner quickly, or had merely gone for a drink to Malfoy Manor, and had returned to his office much earlier than expected. He caught sight of the sword, clasped in Ginny Weasley’s hands, and quickly summoned it from her, while she shouted in protest, and locked up the weapon back in the cupboard, before putting a more-powerful locking spell onto it, and pulling a conjured curtain around the frames of glass, thus blocking it from their view.

“I somehow believed that, in the wake of this new regime, that the four of you would at least attempt to follow the rules, now that the so-called golden trio has seen fit to abscond from their final year of education,” Severus said, his tone dry as he regarded Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, Ginny Weasley, and, to his surprise, Draco Malfoy. “However, thievery, as I am quite sure former Headmaster Dumbledore informed you upon your entrance into the school, is not tolerated in any shape or form.”

“It belongs to Harry!” Ginny shouted then, narrowing her eyes at Severus. “I don’t care if it was in your office, or if it was in the bloody River Fiddich! Dumbledore entrusted it to Harry upon his death, not you!” she yelled. “The last thing Dumbledore would want is for the Sword of Gryffindor to be in hands of a murderer like you!”

“While your passion is admired, Miss Weasley, do understand that there is a time and place for such insolent behavior,” Severus said, his voice dripping with malice. “I see no reason why I should not take house points for such behavior.”

“That’s outrageous!” Draco yelled.

“Enough, Mr. Malfoy,” Severus said, holding up his hand. “Fifty points—a hundred for Gryffindor, considering that two of you are here from that house—will be taken. This means only fifty each from Ravenclaw and Slytherin respectively.”

“You can’t do that!” Neville cried out.

“As headmaster, you’ll find I can do damn near anything,” Severus very nearly growled at the four of them. “I won’t tolerate any of this.”

“Sir, please try to understand that we were only attempting to return the sword to its rightful owner,” Luna said quietly.

“Detention, for the four of you, until Christmas,” Severus said, slamming his palm down upon his desk, and all four students visibly shrank back. “And I expect this to be the last time you are in my office unannounced on uninvited. Now, get out.”

. . .

Harry, Ron, and Hermione picked out Sherwood Forest on one of Hermione’s maps to camp in, as Hermione mentioned a Muggle story, _Robin Hood_ , as one of her favorites. It was beautiful, to say the least, and they spent weeks outlining their plan for Harry to retrieve the Elder Wand and defeat Voldemort. Thus began their habits for the next few weeks—filled with planning and more planning—to the point where they realized they’d spent over eight weeks there. It was nice, because they’d been on the run for several solid weeks beforehand, and it was wonderful just to lie back and relax for a few moments, or weeks.

Sherwood Forest on Boxing Day seemed to be like something straight out of a fairy tale, at least, that’s what Harry thought, anyway. Ron and Hermione had fallen asleep in the bigger cot inside the tent, leaving Harry to sip on what was left of the mulled wine. When he tired of that, he left the tent, breathing in the crisp wintery air, and looking at his surroundings. Everything was muted, now that night had fallen, especially because snow covered every surface imaginable. It was lovely to leave the tent and just stand there on his own, and it was as if he was the only person left in the world—no Voldemort to kill, no complications with Severus, no nothing. It was as if, for one moment, Harry could permit himself to just be.

He walked through the tall trees with the bare branches, his movements nearly silent, but for the slight crunch his boots made on the snowy surface of the forest floor. Harry placed a hand upon one of the tree trunks, and smiled to himself. He’d never had the opportunity to simply climb trees in the summertime; in fact, the very thought of a childhood filled him with nostalgia, as it was something he’d never really experienced. Chores had come about from the time he could walk and talk without falling over or stumbling over the English language, and, once he’d entered adolescence, he’d been at the mercy of a Dark Wizard. And then, at sixteen, when things possibly couldn’t get any worse for the Wizarding World, he’d realized his attraction to someone who seemed to hate him as much as Voldemort did, and then he lost his mentor at the end of that school year, by the very man who his heart beat for.

Harry wetted his lips then, in an effort to distract himself against the cold; he’d been thankful for Molly giving him, Ron, and Hermione their Christmas jumpers early that year, and he didn’t know where he would be in this weather without it. She and Arthur Weasley were indeed the closest thing Harry had had to a proper family, he saw that now; he and Sirius had never been given the opportunity to be one, and the notion that he was seen as one of the Weasley children truly set his mind at ease. He had constantly wondered what would had happened, had his parents not been killed that night; perhaps he wouldn’t have felt like such an outsider for the duration of his life, but one thing he knew for sure was that he wouldn’t have fallen for Severus in the first place. Not having Severus in his life filled him with an ache within himself, and he wanted that man more than ever, especially during the holidays.

It was a flash of silvery light that filled the forest then that set Harry on his guard. Peering through the trees and through the mist of the wintery night, he saw a silver doe making her way towards him, and his mouth fell open at the sight of it. Stepping closer to the creature, the doe seemed to be waiting for him, and she put her nose into the palm of his hand, rubbing against it in an affectionate manner before drifting away from him. She turned around then, and motioned with her head for Harry to follow her and, heart entering his throat, he knew it would be best to listen to her.

Stepping through the protection wards that Hermione had put up upon their arrival, he slipped through the forest, the light of the doe keeping his path alight. He knew it was dangerous to be following this unknown Patronus, given the fact that he was wandless, and that he was likely the most wanted wizard at the moment, but he pushed on, coming to a clearing, where the doe suddenly disappeared, leaving him alone in the darkness. Harry cursed himself then, knowing full well that Snatchers could be lurking behind every corner, and he could’ve just as easily been lured into a trap by Death Eaters. Shaking his head, he turned around then, in an attempt to find his way back to camp, when the _whoosh_ -ing sound of Apparating occurred behind him and, upon turning around, his breath was knocked out of him.

“Severus,” he whispered, his tone trembling then.

“Harry.”

“Why are you here?” he asked, his tone clipped.

“To get you to the sword.”

Harry blinked, shaking his head. “The sword? Of Gryffindor, you mean?”

“Yes,” Severus said with a sigh. “That was my Patronus you were following, and it was meant to guide you,” he replied, and Harry raised an eyebrow at that.

Harry crossed his arms. “Why would you send your Patronus to me?” he asked, in a much more cross tone than he originally intended.

“It was meant to guide you somewhere, obviously,” Severus sneered, “but perhaps because you have such little faith in me, it fizzled out.”

Harry felt like he’d been slapped then, and his eyes flashed. “It is not because I have such little faith in you, Severus,” he replied, this time fighting to keep his tone level. “It is because I had no idea who casted the Patronus in the first place. It was uncertainty, to be sure, but, given that I had no way of knowing what your Patronus was, you cannot blame me for being skeptical in this new regime, given that I am the Undesirable Number One.”

Severus sighed, knowing he had judged the situation too harshly; and yet, Harry’s response had not been a petulant teenagers’, but a man fearful and confused as to what some unknown witch or wizard’s Patronus would want with him so late at night, not to mention the fact that Severus had figured out his location. “I am sorry,” he replied then, and Harry looked shocked at how humble his former professor looked in that moment. “You are right. It is wise to be uncertain in these mysterious times. I am sorry for doubting your motives.”

“You can’t fault me for doubting yours,” he said softly.

Severus sighed. “No, I suppose not.”

“After all this time,” Harry said quietly, “you seem to doubt me. After I screamed at you that I loved you, and still do,” he went on, and Severus looked crushed, “you still refuse to tell me anything about your role in all this.”

Severus shook his head. “Although the Dark Lord is vulnerable, Harry, now that you’ve managed to eliminate, with Dumbledore, five Horcruxes, it is still uncertain. Two more remain, not to mention the notion that he could easily make more.”

“He will not make more,” Harry replied.

Severus blinked. “How can you be sure?”

“There is still a connection between the two of us,” Harry said, his tone level, “however, I’m able to control it now. I can let him in and out at will, and I haven’t seen any set plans for him to create any new Horcruxes. Most of his time is spent testing the loyalty of his followers, as well as ensuring that he can get some new ones. I’ve seen you with him, you know,” he went on then, his voice soft, and Severus shifted slightly. “One would think that there was something deeper between the two of you.”

“The Dark Lord wished it to be so, but I declined,” he said.

Harry sighed. “Can’t think why,” he replied.

Severus blinked. “You doubt me?”

“Of course, given your refusal to come clean to me,” Harry said, crossing his arms. “I can’t help but think that it was how you were seduced by the Dark in the first place. And besides, it’s not as if you’ve told me how you truly feel for me.”

Severus nodded. “No, I suppose you’re right.”

“How do you feel for me, Severus?” Harry whispered. “You’ve stated that you would spend your life with me, after the war, and that you liked the idea of being my lover...”

He sighed. “Yes. Of course I relish the idea to claim you fully.”

“Then what is stopping us?” Harry asked. “What is stopping us from truly being together, when we have the moments to do so? Don’t you want me, Severus?”

“You know I do, Harry. I’ll always want you.”

Harry hesitated for close to a full minute, knowing full well that their conversation upon their last meeting had been less-than-savory. However, Harry couldn’t take it anymore, and whispered, “Thank Merlin”, as if it was an oath, before he charged forward, filling with relief as Severus caught him up in his arms, a small cry escaping his lips as their lips met. Harry didn’t care about who might find them—in this moment, he wanted Severus to truly know how much he meant to him, and, shaking, his hands drifted towards the many buttons on Severus’s robes, and felt elation roar through him when he realized that Severus wasn’t stopping him.

The feeling of being slammed upon a particularly thick tree trunk was not an unwelcome feeling for Harry, and he wrapped his legs around Severus’s torso, a moan escaping his lips and he felt his own erection meeting Severus’s. Harry felt his panting begin as Severus’s hips dug into him, forcing their erections tightly together, and Harry wondered what it would feel like to have Severus deep inside him, fucking him against that tree in Sherwood Forest. Their lips crashed together repeatedly, and mutual moans ripped forth from the two of them as Severus stuck his hands beneath the Christmas jumper, feeling every inch of Harry’s virgin flesh, and it was then that something snapped from within him as he broke away, leaving Harry to mewl in disappointment.

“Severus,” Harry whispered, longing, begging, peppering his tone.

“I cannot,” he whispered.

Harry felt his eyes fill with tears. “Severus...please,” he begged. “I love you.”

“I know,” Severus replied. He walked into the middle of the clearing then, and sighed. “You will find the sword in the frozen lake beyond those trees,” he said, his tone soft, filled with regret, as he Disapparated.

Harry felt the ache inside himself then, as his heart raced. He wished he could put a Silencing Charm, but suddenly remembered his lack of wand. He slipped to his knees then, dry sobs hacking his body, until the sun came up, lighting the way for him to fetch the godforsaken sword and return to camp.

. . .

Harry was brewing tea that New Year’s Day, still sore from Severus leaving him in the middle of the woods like that, but had said nothing about the encounter to Ron and Hermione. He looked up as he served the tea, pleased at the domestic setting that they all provided one another. In typical fashion, Hermione’s nose was lodged into one of her books, and Ron was merely staring at her as he chewed a biscuit.

“Hermione.” Ron’s voice broke the silence then, and there was enough urgency behind the tone to have Hermione put her book aside and stare at him.

“Ron,” she replied, and then her jaw dropped at his movements. “Ronald Bilius Weasley, what in the name of Merlin do you think you’re—?!”

“These times we live in are unexpected,” he said softly, and Hermione merely stared at him, her brown eyes wide with shock. “I don’t want to live in complete uncertainty anymore, which is why I want to take back some control when it comes to my destiny.” Slowly, Ron reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring, and presented it to her, while Hermione’s eyes filled with tears at what was happening. “Hermione Jean Granger, I don’t remember a time when I didn’t love you, and I’ll never forgive myself for hiding behind my feelings for so long, and I’m humbled by it, completely. But, I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make up for the many, many times I’ve hurt you, if you’ll let me. Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” Hermione said, her tone breathless as she choked back a sob, and held out her trembling hand for Ron to slip the ring on, which he did. Hermione then grabbed Ron up by his collar, pulling his lips to meet hers, and kissed him, never wanting to stop.

Taking the non-verbal hint, Harry made his way outside the tent and found himself wandering aimlessly through the forest around them. He hoped that Ron and Hermione would have the decency to cast a Silencing Charm of some kind, for he didn’t know just how far their sounds carried, and he wasn’t intent on finding out anytime soon. As he trudged through the frost-bitten terrain, he found himself back in the clearing that he’d met Severus in the night before, and shut his eyes. He’d heard of Christmas wishes, to be sure, and New Year’s Resolutions, but wondered if New Year’s wishes existed as well.

Maybe...

“Severus,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion as he called out to his lover, knowing that all bets were off, as there was truly a war on, and love, when found, had to be grabbed up and kept, cherished, to the point where all parties were sure of it. “I need you. If you can hear me, please, come back to the forest. I can no longer bear it.”

There was a _whoosh_ of something before him then and as Harry’s eyes snapped open, he found himself shocked to see Severus standing before him. Heart in his throat, he charged forward then and cemented Severus’s mouth to his, feeling the tears streaming from his eyes as he latched onto him, not knowing if he could ever let him go. The silkiness of his lover’s hair sent electrical charges through him then and, his heart pounding as Severus’s mouth opened beneath his own seemed to complete him then, only for his hopes to be dashed then, as he lifted his hands for Severus’s buttons, he clutched them, stopping him.

“Severus, please,” Harry begged, looking up at him. “I need you.”

He nodded. “I know, Harry. And I need you, too,” he replied, resting his forehead against the younger Gryffindor’s. “I can no longer hide it.”

Harry blinked. “But you left...”

“Because I didn’t want to force you, Harry,” he whispered. “After what your uncle did to you... I thought that perhaps...”

“No!” Harry roared, shaking his head. “You are not him, Severus, and you will never be him. I had no idea I could ever love, let alone this intensely, but I do. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Harry,” Severus replied.

“Then make me yours,” Harry replied, wrapping his arms around Severus’s neck, and allowed his fingers to tangle in those silken raven locks again. “Let us finish what we started outside of Slughorn’s Christmas party over a year ago. Let us complete this, Severus.”

“If you’re sure...”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” Harry said. “Please. Take me. I want you. I need you. I love you.”

Severus shuddered then at the unadulterated lust in the young man’s voice, which successfully managed to push him over the edge, to the point of no return. Without hesitation, he slammed him up against that same thick tree trunk, and Harry gasped in shock as his mouth found his again, grinding his erection against his former professor’s. Not wanting to wait, but also wanting to make it good for Harry, Severus was momentarily torn before he banished their clothes from their bodies, before casting a Warming Charm around them in case the younger man would find himself to be cold.

“Need...you,” Harry groaned, his voice raw at the prospect of it all, and found that he was enjoying the feeling of rubbing his naked body against Severus’s and moaned again. His eyes were quickly threatening to roll back in his head as his hands tentatively roamed the plane he was being given. “Severus...”

Severus smiled at his younger lover, before casting a Lubrication Spell directly onto his fingers, which he slowly allowed to tease Harry’s hole. The gasp of delight filled Severus with something akin to a primal attitude as he slipped one finger inside Harry, and Harry’s delicious hips bucked against the contact Severus gave him. Taking a cue from Harry’s actions, and feeling himself hardening completely at the blind lust that his young lover exhibited, Severus slowly added another finger to him, and Harry moaned even louder.

“More, more,” he begged, as Severus captured his mouth again, the sensation of Harry moaning into his mouth going straight to his groin. “More,” he whispered into his mouth.

“Your wish is my command,” he replied, slipping in the third and final lubricated finger, which stretched Harry just enough, to the point where the boy was so deliciously tight around him, that Severus felt his groin ache at the notion that that pressure would soon be wrapped around his own cock. “Harry...” He whispered to him.

“Now,” Harry groaned, sliding up and down Severus’s own shaft. “Please. I’m ready. Please. I want us to come at the same time.”

The selflessness of his lover was overwhelming to Severus as he slowly withdrew his fingers, tasting them as he cast another Lubrication Spell onto his engorged member. “Are you ready, Harry?” he whispered, well-aware of his horse tone, he was so pent-up.

“Yes, please, please,” Harry begged, wrapping himself tighter around Severus. “Need you now. I love you, Severus,” he practically wept.

“I love you, Harry,” Severus said devoutly, before angling himself just right, and permitted himself to plunge into Harry.

Harry let out a satisfied groan then as his lips latched onto Severus’s again, as he found his own rhythm, using his lover’s shoulders as leverage for him to pump into his arse. “More,” he begged him, and Severus’s eyes met his. “Fuck me harder.”

Severus grinned; this he knew how to do. Grinding Harry’s back into the tree behind him, he then whispered, “Hold tight to me.” Then, he shoved himself all the deeper into Harry’s tender and beautiful arse, while Harry screamed with ecstasy. With his free hand, Severus took ahold of Harry’s beautifully engorged cock, and stroked it.

“So long,” Harry whispered, so that Severus had to strain to hear his words. “I’ve wanted this for so long...”

“I know,” Severus whispered back, and those beautiful emerald eyes flashed open to meet his, and were like a beautiful light that flowed through him. “So have I.”

“Fuck, I love you,” Harry declared, throwing his arms around Severus again, as he found his lips for a rough kiss. “I want you forever...”

“As I want you,” Severus vowed.

“Fuck, I want to marry you,” Harry whispered.

Severus didn’t know what to say to the assertion, so he merely pounded Harry harder than ever before, knowing that it was possible that the younger man was just feeling his feelings very strongly and, in the moment, had spoken in kind. Not knowing what to make of it, had it been the truth, Severus focused on pumping Harry’s beautiful cock, as well as satisfying his own, buried deep in Harry’s gorgeous arse.

“Tell me what you want,” Severus whispered to him.

“You,” Harry whispered then, pulling back and cradling Severus’s face in his smooth hands as he found himself smiling. “Always you. I want to spend my life with you. I want to be happy, with you. I want us to be bonded forever. I want...”

“What?” Severus whispered, knowing that he was close and, based on the tense spasming coming from Harry, knew it was the case for him as well. “Tell me what you want, Harry. I want to know.”

“I want... I want you to impregnate me,” he sputtered then, knowing that such a thought was damn near absurd, for Hermione had told him more than once that a wizard carrying a child was very rare.

“Harry...” Severus whispered, although he couldn’t deny the notion of Harry carrying his child was intoxicating to think about it. “Harry...”

“Severus!” Harry screamed then, feeling himself being pushed over the precipice then, and felt himself spill into Severus’s beautiful hands. He was rocked then, just a moment later, when Severus came into his arse, and let out a strangled cry all his own. His lips met the older man’s then, and he had the feeling that, even if Lord Voldemort himself walked into the forest and challenged him to a duel wearing Aunt Petunia’s housecoat, in that moment, nothing could move him from Severus’s strong, loving arms.


	8. It’s More Than I Can Bear

Harry woke up in Severus’s arms the following morning, and bliss washed over him at the notion of what had transpired between the two the night before. It was a delicious feeling, awaking in the arms of his lover, and he truly understood for the first time Severus’s reluctance for them to consummate their relationship in these uncertain times. The notion that Severus would have to return to Hogwarts to continue to play at being Voldemort’s servant and that Harry would remain in Sherwood Forest with Ron and Hermione, plotting their next move, was an ache that he believed he could never turn loose.

Harry leaned forward then and pressed a kiss to Severus’s brow, and the older man moaned slightly in his sleep before his black pool eyes opened and rested on Harry, who grinned up at him, unashamed. “Good morning,” he whispered, his second word being cut off by Severus covering his mouth with his, and Harry felt himself literally arising for the occasion. “Severus, please,” he begged, unknowing whether or not he was asking his lover to cease or continue. “I don’t think...”

“Shush,” Severus whispered, his voice husky with desire. “Just let me take care of you, Harry. I want to do this for you.”

“What do you...? Oh,” Harry said, his eyes flying open at the sensation that Severus’s lips had left his own, and they were drifting downwards towards his already engorged member. “You don’t have to...”

“I want to,” Severus assured him, his eyes meeting Harry’s, which soon darkened with desire at the sight of Severus between his legs. “I need to taste you, Harry.”

Harry bit down on his bottom lip, knowing he could cry out from the moment Severus’s thin lips descended upon him and found him quickly. Harry gasped then, arching his back to meet his former professor’s mouth, his eyes squeezing shut as he fought to not scream aloud. The last thing he wanted as he fucked Severus’s mouth was Ron or Hermione catching them in the act; he knew that they’d agreed to be supportive of the relationship—Ron more reluctantly than Hermione—but he didn’t think that they’d be prepared to see it on this level. The notion that Severus was literally filled with him orally sent Harry over the edge, and, more than anything, he didn’t want the two of them to be interrupted.

“Severus,” he whispered, the word ripping from his throat as Severus’s own was filled completely by him. “So...good...”

Severus smirked around him, slowly easing his mouth from the length and cupping his young lover’s balls, which caused Harry to shout and immediately see stars. “I’ll always make it good for you, Harry,” he declared then, before he lowered his mouth again.

“Fuck...you feel so good,” Harry moaned, arching up his back again, while all the while tangling his fingers into Severus’s hair. “Please...don’t stop...”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop, Harry,” Severus whispered, and Harry wondered if he was truly meant to hear those words. “You’re so damn intoxicating... Fuck, I love you so much,” he said then, and wrapped his hand around the base of Harry’s cock then, as he stuck it as far into his mouth as it would go, before he pumped with his hands and mouth all at once.

 _Fuck_ , Harry thought to himself. Nothing would ever compare to this, Severus kneeling before him and pleasing him orally. Harry’s hands left Severus’s hair and fisted his own as he writhed beneath him, strings of curses and moans of pleasure falling from his lips. “You’re amazing,” he whispered to Severus, and finally allowed his hands back down into Severus’s hair. “I love you, too,” he moaned then.

Severus grinned around Harry’s cock then, and felt the teen spasming beneath him, and knew that he was close. “Come on, Harry,” he encouraged him, pulling back his mouth as he pumped harder with his hands. “It’s all right. Come for me, Harry.”

“Severus...fuck!” Harry screamed, his soul seeming to temporarily leave his body then as he let out a shrill cry, the all-body spasm overtaking him then. In the moment that followed, his seed spilled from the tip of his cock, and Severus’s mouth descended upon it quickly, tasting every bit so as it would not go to waste. “Oh, my god,” Harry whispered, his voice raw when he was finally able to speak again. “Severus...”

Severus smiled, licking off the excess come that dripped down from his lips as he brought his body back upwards, over Harry, and looked down at him. “Hello, there,” he said, a small laugh filtering out of his mouth.

Without hesitation, Harry yanked him downwards and devoured his mouth as Severus had done when they’d first woken up. “Fuck, you’re amazing, Severus,” he whispered.

Severus sighed as contentment washed over him. “As are you, Harry.”

. . .

After Severus had summoned their clothes back onto their respective bodies and casted some extensive Cleaning Spells, he walked with Harry to the edge of the clearing. Harry felt the familiar ache of being separated from Severus washing over him, and he threw his arms around his lover one last time. After whispering of their love for one another, Harry slipped through the trees and Severus watched him for a time before he Apparated back to Hogwarts.

Harry drifted back towards the tent in the morning light of dawn, and, as he stepped back though the protective enchantment surrounding it, looked up at the tents’ entrance. It was as if Severus’s Warming Spell came off of him as he walked through Hermione’s protected area, and, although the ache didn’t leave him, he did feel comforted to be back with the pair of them. Harry raised his eyebrows then as Ron quickly moved out the flap, and let out a shout at him standing there. It was truly amazing to Harry as he stood there, hands in his pockets, watching as his best friend bounced around animatedly like an overly-energetic cardinal with just a bit too much butterbeer in his system.

“Hermione, he’s back!” Ron shouted.

Hermione flitted out of the tent like a hummingbird to Ron’s cardinal, letting out a shout of her own as she dashed forward. “Harry!” she screamed, throwing herself into his arms and never seeming to want to let go. “You’ve been gone for hours! What happened?!” she demanded, pulling back from him and looking him over. “Are you hurt? Ron, fetch my Dittany at once!” she ordered her fiancé, turning around to face him briefly before looking back at Harry. “Why, you’re flushed!” she said, putting her palm against his forehead. “Ron, it could be a fever! You’d best get my—!”

“He doesn’t have a fever, Hermione,” Ron said, gently prying her off of Harry and shaking his head at her. “Come on, mate. You don’t need to tell us what’s going on, because it’s pretty obvious what you’ve been up to.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “Oh, really?”

Ron nodded, gently keeping ahold of Hermione’s shoulders to prevent her from launching herself at Harry again. “Yeah. I mean, you’re all red, and your hair’s got the ‘I’ve just been shagged’ look...”

“Honestly, Ronald, Harry’s hair always looks like—” Hermione cut herself off then, her brown eyes taking on a deeper understanding. “Wait. Harry, was that were you were all this time? I mean, were you with Severus?”

Harry sighed, carding his hand through his hair in an effort to calm it but, of course, it did no good, and remained going in all directions. “Yeah, I was with him,” he said.

Ron blinked. “All night?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah. All night.”

“Blimey, mate,” Ron said, shaking his head. “I mean, I’m happy for you, but this is Snape we’re talking about...”

“Honestly, Ron, you’ve got to accept Harry’s choice of who to be with,” Hermione scolded as she fixed him with a look.

“I do, Hermione, really,” Ron assured her, pressing a kiss on her temple to placate her. “It’s just going to take some getting used-to.”

Harry shuffled from foot to foot then, remembering something that Severus had whispered the night before, about how Dumbledore had been the greatest sorcerer in the world—a fact which Harry wholeheartedly agreed with. It hit him then, like the Bludger had during his second-year at Hogwarts, what Severus had been trying to tell him, and his eyes flashed upwards to Ron and Hermione’s, and the words came tumbling out before he could stop them. “I know where the Elder Wand is.”

Hermione’s attention was immediately had by Harry. “What?” she whispered, her brown eyes wild with excitement. “What are you talking about, Harry?”

“Snape know where it was, did he?” Ron asked.

Harry sighed. “It was something he said, about Dumbledore being the greatest sorcerer in the world,” he said softly.

Hermione nodded. “Of course, but we knew that.”

“Well, wouldn’t a great wizard, like Dumbledore, be buried with his wand?” Harry asked, looking from one of them to the other, knowing that what he was suggesting was pure insanity but, after last night, Harry was full-on mad.

Ron’s eyes widened then. “Do you know what you’re suggesting, mate?” he asked, his tone far more quiet than it usually was. “You’re actually talking about grave-robbing. Blimey, Harry, you’re turning into Fred and George...”

“It may not be so mad, Ron,” Hermione said, her voice gentle. “I mean, what Harry is suggesting is completely mental, of course, but, let’s face it. These times are completely mental. Harry is in love with Snape, our former potions master who made his life a living hell. You and I are going to be married... Who’s to say that Dumbledore wasn’t in possession of the Elder Wand? I think it wouldn’t do any harm to at least look into it.”

Ron sighed, knowing when he was beaten. “Oh, very well, Hermione,” he replied, his tone indulgent as he held her to him for a moment, before releasing her. “May as well pack up everything—save for the cloak—and Apparate to Hogwarts to that godforsaken grave, to desecrate it, and fetch what we need.”

“Thanks, Ron,” Harry said as Hermione turned herself loose from him and quickly summoned everything into her beaded bag before tossing the cloak to Harry.

“Ready to go?” she asked.

Ron sighed. “I suppose so. Harry?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

“Let’s go, then,” Hermione said, joining their hands in hers before they Disapparated from the Sherwood Forest, and safety, and into the unknown.

. . .

Classes hadn’t begun for the second part of the term yet, but, as Neville and Draco were soul-bonded, it was very difficult to stay away from the other. They’d returned to Hogwarts earlier than expected, and were pretty much shacking up in the Room of Requirement together, without anyone’s knowledge but Ginny and Luna. They awoke happily that morning, wrapped in each other’s arms, and Draco turned over and smiled at Neville.

“Good morning, husband,” he said to him.

Neville grinned. “Good morning to you, husband.” He shifted slightly so as his back was propped up against the abundance of pillows in the provided bed, and Draco tucked his head between his shoulder and his neck. “How did the engagement party go?” Neville asked him softly, tracing patterns into Draco’s naked back.

Draco shuddered. “As well as could be expected,” he muttered, his tone bitter. “Neither the Parkinson’s nor my parents suspected a thing, thankfully.”

“I’m wondering how long this can go on,” Neville whispered. “I mean, soul-bonding would have destroyed the contract...”

“The contract has been destroyed, I grant you,” Draco replied. “But it’s not like Mother and Father presented it during the engagement party.”

Neville blinked, surprised at that fact. “Why not?”

“Because it would be seen as inappropriate,” his husband replied softly. “They’re trying to make it look like Pansy and I are deeply in love, which wouldn’t require a contract in the first place. I suppose the last thing that my parents would want the Pureblood and Death Eater community to know was that Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson, the son and daughter of Purebloods and Death Eater lovers, aren’t madly in love.”

Neville muttered something unintelligible under his breath as he pulled Draco closer. “I’m just worried that something will happen to you on the day of the wedding, if it even manages to get that far, love. I mean, wouldn’t you successfully incur the wrath of the Malfoys and the Parkinson’s together?”

Draco smirked. “No,” he replied. “If Potter doesn’t succeed in his mission, then my intention is, once we’ve graduated, to get the hell out of here together. You’ve mentioned that your parents left you a house somewhere, right?”

“Yes, in Norfolk,” Neville said softly. “It became mine upon my majority, but Gran stated that I complete my education before moving in. That was the only stipulation. Then the accounts left for me at Gringotts would automatically be in my name, so we’d have plenty of money to get by for generations to come. Our heirs would be well-provided for,” he went on; he spoke this last part softly, as he didn’t fully know how Draco felt about children, let alone having them in their lives on a permanent basis, for it was not something they’d ever discussed.

Draco swallowed then before propping himself up on his arm, and stared into Neville’s eyes. “I want you to know something.”

Neville nodded. “Of course.”

He lowered his eyes. “I remember you telling me that you wanted children...”

Neville sighed. “I do want children, Draco, but it is not something we need to discuss right now, if you’re uncomfortable with it,” he told his husband, gently cupping his face, which caused Draco to raise his eyes to his. “The last thing I want is to create a barrier between us because we disagree on this...”

“We actually need to discuss it now,” Draco replied, his tone firm.

Neville sat up then, so that he was eye-level to Draco. “What do you mean we have to discuss it now, love?” he asked, searching his beloved’s face. “What are you talking about? Are you all right?” he whispered, gently taking ahold of Draco by the shoulders.

Draco swallowed. “Well, yes and no,” he said softly. “There were always rumors that a wizard getting pregnant was rare, and that it oftentimes will skip a generation because it is so rare. And I didn’t even know it was possible until... Well,” he said, clearing his throat. “All I can say is, is that I hope that Norfolk has some halfway decent primary schools for children before they begin at Hogwarts, because...”

“Draco,” Neville said softly, which caused his husband to slowly raised his eyes to his. “What is it you’re telling me right now?”

“Look, I know it’s not the most opportune time to be having this discussion, and that we’re due to graduate in just five months, which is when I’ll likely be...”

“Draco,” Neville said then, and he found that his own voice was shaking as well. “Are you telling me what I think you’re telling me?”

Draco smiled slowly then and took ahold of Neville’s hand, and placed it on his abdomen, which suddenly appeared swollen. “I’ve a charm on it not to show, so we’ve at least got that going for the two of us,” he joked.

Neville let out a gasp then as he felt their child moving inside Draco, and felt tears entering his eyes then at the notion of it all. “When do you...?”

“On the night of our soul-bond,” Draco replied with a laugh. “Luna, although I never confirmed or denied it, gave me some books.”

Neville smirked. “I’m sure she did.” He calculated it for a moment, and nodded his head. “So, it should happen around graduation, or a little before?”

Draco sighed then, squaring his shoulders. “That’s what I assume, yes.” He raised his eyes back to Neville’s then, and swallowed once me. “Are you all right with this? Starting a family with me, I mean. You don’t think that I’m a freak to be able to carry children, do you?”

Neville smiled slowly at him, taking ahold of his hands as he bent down to kiss Draco’s slowly expanding belly. “I can’t tell you how much in love with you I am right now,” he declared then as he pulled Draco into his arms. “Of course I don’t think you’re a freak, Draco—I could never think something so utterly terrible about you. Perhaps, before fifth-year, when I didn’t fully grasp my feelings towards you, I may have... No,” he said, pulling back from him then. “Even though you truly seemed to hate me, I wouldn’t have ever assumed the worst from you or about you. All I could think about was the fact that you seemed so terribly sad with the hand that had been dealt to you, and all I wanted, really wanted, was for you to know that you could have counted on me to provide a compassionate ear.”

Draco’s eyes filled with tears then as he shook his head. “What did I do to deserve someone as amazing as you, Neville Longbottom?”

Neville grinned. “By opening up to me at last,” he replied simply, “letting me know that I wasn’t going completely mad with my feelings for you.”

“You could never be mad, Neville,” Draco told him, his tone gentle. “I love you.”

Neville leaned in and kissed his husband’s lips. “I love you, too.”

. . .

The trio touched down in the area that had become Albus Dumbledore’s final resting place, and the white tomb stared back at them in the trickle of winter sunlight which surrounded them. It was then that Harry stood back slightly, unknowing how he would be able to get into the thing without destroying it completely, and was suddenly aware of just how mad his plan was. He turned directly to Hermione then, who nodded in understanding.

She stepped forward then, holding out her wand, and whispered, “ _Alohomora_ ,” and, from somewhere deep inside the thing, a lock clicked. “ _Wingardium Leviosa_ ,” she said then, and the top of the tomb separated from the bottom, thus revealing the body of their former headmaster to the three of them, his wand resting delicately in his hands.

Harry stepped forward then as Hermione kept right on levitating the upper half of the tomb, and reached out, taking the wand from his fingertips. “All right, Hermione,” he whispered, stepping back, which allowed Hermione to put the grave back together.

“Now what?” Ron asked.

“Find Luna,” Harry replied, taking their hands. He Apparated them to Severus’s inner quarters, knowing that he wouldn’t be there, as it was the middle of the day. “Send her your Patronus, please, Hermione,” he whispered.

Hermione nodded, her otter coming out of her wand quickly, before the creature of blue and silver light turned toward her. “Luna, this is Hermione,” she whispered to it. “Please come to the headmaster’s quarters immediately. We’re in need of some Ravenclaw intelligence,” she said, and the otter bowed its head before it flitted from the room.

Harry sat back on his heels then, weighing the ivory stick in his hand as he gazed down upon it, knowing that he would need to try it immediately. He looked around the room, spotting a pillow upon his lover’s bed, and nodded to himself. “ _Accio_ ,” he said, and the feather-filled thing came to him willingly, instantly, without any form of hesitation. “Wow,” he whispered, and Ron chortled from across the room.

“Boys,” Hermione scolded under her breath.

Harry hesitated for a moment before stepped forward. “Hermione?”

“Yes?”

He bit his lip then and gently took ahold of her arm, which she had painstakingly wrapped with a scarf of hers. He gently pulled it back then, and Hermione hissed through her teeth as the cut word in her skin, _Mudblood_ , met the open air.

“Harry, what are you...?”

“Shush,” he said firmly, and placed the Elder Wand against it, and Hermione flinched slightly from the pain that seemed to course through her. “ _Evanesco_ ,” he whispered, and she breathed in sharply through her teeth as the cuts evaporated as they had come, so all that remained was the smoothness of her arm.

“Blimey, mate,” Ron whispered, stepping forward and feeling Hermione’s arm then, as she was doing, and shaking his head.

Hermione raised her eyes to Harry’s then, her eyes filling with tears, and whispered, “Thank you,” to him, although her voice cracked at the end.

Harry smiled. “You’re my sister. I would’ve done it eventually.”

Hermione broke away from Ron then and rushed forward, throwing her arms around Harry and sobbing into his shoulder. It was in that moment, after initially hugging her, that Harry slowly brought her arms off from around him and guided them gently around Ron, who quickly held out his arms to hold her back. Hermione then proceeded to weep into Ron’s arm for a solid two or three minutes, and Ron just stood there, holding her, letting her know that she was safe and loved with him. She sighed then, shaking her head as she pulled back from him at long last, and slowly pulled her hands through her hair, deep in thought. “I think Ron and I had better go and find Luna on the way,” she said. “I mean, how would she even manage to get in here?”

Harry nodded, and handed over the cloak to the two of them. “Take this so that you’re protected from everything,” he replied, and embraced them quickly. “Be careful.”

“You too, mate,” Ron said, pulling the cloak over the two of them as they Disapparated.

Harry sighed, wondering what Severus was doing at the moment, and the ache for his lover to be with him returned. He wondered if it would be safe to send a Patronus, as Severus had done to him in the forest, but without a message. Sighing, Harry casted the spell, the brilliant stag nearly filling the room, and looking at him for his last word. “Get to Severus Snape immediately, and let him know that I am here, please,” Harry whispered to him.

The stag bowed its head and left Harry, who collapsed in one of the chairs provided in Severus’s bedroom. He hadn’t done that much that day, but the evening before had certainly taken a lot out of him. He had never experienced something as wonderful as that, and he wanted to experience it over and over again, with Severus, for the rest of his life. It was the clatter from outside Severus’s inner rooms a moment that that startled Harry to his feet, and when the door opened, he was filled with that warmth that only Severus could charm from within him.

“Harry?” Severus whispered, shocked, as he stepped forward, kicking the door shut behind him before he rushed forward, yanking him into his arms. He stopped short then, spotting the wand, gripping in Harry’s hands, and shook his head. “How did you...?”

“You,” Harry replied. “I know what it will take to defeat him. I know now. Once we finish off the final Horcruxes, it’s this.”

Severus sighed. “Promise me you didn’t destroy the grave.”

Harry stared up at Severus in shock. “No, of course we didn’t. Hermione unlocked it and levitated the top portion, before setting it to rights. It looks exactly the same as it did before we ever came upon it.”

Severus nodded. “Very well, then,” he said, kissing Harry’s forehead.

Harry was silent in his lover’s arms for a moment when an idea suddenly struck him, and he pulled away, leaving Severus confused. “I want to try something,” he said softly to him, his tone utterly polite. “May I?”

Severus swallowed. “You may.”

Tentatively, Harry reached out and took ahold of Severus’s arm which housed the Dark Mark, and gently rolled up the sleeve of his black robe. He gently hovered the wand above it, and spoke for the first time in moments, “ _Vipera Evanesca_ ,” and the snake hissed for a moment before curling around itself and disappeared.

Severus gasped then as the snake evaporated completely as if it never was, and there wasn’t even a scar remaining beneath it. He roved his fingers over the skin, hardly remembering a time when his arm was bare. He raised his eyes to Harry then, and they were so filled with love that Harry’s eyes very nearly filled with tears. “Why would you...?”

“You know why, Severus,” Harry said with a smile. “I’ve told you as much. I love you,” he said and yanked Severus to him, kissing his lips.

. . .

Ron and Hermione fled to the Room of Requirement as quickly as they could, Hermione re-sending her Patronus to Luna so as she would know where to go. Ron hoped that Luna would be considerate about the location of the meet-up, but he remembered how calm she usually was about certain things, so he didn’t really bother with it. They pulled off the cloak as they stood inside, and looked around, spotting what appeared to be a door in a far-off corner of the room, and they turned and stared at each other.

“I don’t remember there being a door in here, do you, Ron?” Hermione asked, turning to look at her fiancé.

Ron shook his head. “Not except for the one to enter and leave,” he said, his tone filled slightly with unease. “Do you think we should try and open it?”

Hermione shrugged. “I don’t know. What if it’s where You-Know-Who meets with other Death Eaters on Hogwarts grounds?”

Ron shook his head. “Nah. I don’t think they would be that reckless. They probably still meet at Malfoy Manor.”

There seemed to be a sigh from behind the door then, and Ron quickly positioned himself in front of Hermione, who fixed him with a look of annoyance. She nevertheless permitted him to grip her by the hand as the knob turned and the door opened. Ron and Hermione’s jaws dropped simultaneously then as Neville Longbottom and Draco Malfoy came out of the room together, and the pair of them caught a glimpse of a messed-up bed from behind the pair of wizards just as they closed the door behind them and regarded them.

“Ron, Hermione,” Neville said.

Hermione’s eyes went to their hands, which were clasped in the same manner in which Ron’s and hers were, and shook her head, easily coming up with a plethora of explanations, but wanting the truth, above all things. “Um...? Has that much really changed since we took off in the summer?” she asked.

Draco sighed and stepped forward then, and Ron instinctively positioned himself even closer to Hermione, creating an effective barrier between her and Draco. “I deserve that,” he said, and Ron sneered at him.

“You deserve far worse for the hell you’ve put my fiancée through,” Ron said, glaring at the fellow Pureblood.

“Fiancée?” Neville asked, a grin spreading across his lips. “Congratulations!”

“Thank you, Neville,” Hermione said quietly. “Is something the matter?” she asked, turning to look at Draco, who looked humbled.

“Look, I... I owe you an apology, Hermione,” he said, and Hermione’s eyebrows raised at the notion that he’d address her as something other than ‘Mudblood’, or ‘Granger’. “I could stand here until the end of time, telling you that I only said and did those things I did to you, and many others, because my father foisted them on me, and that is partially true. But, at the end of the day, I had to believe those things, because, if I hadn’t, it would have been worse for me. You don’t understand completely what Death Eaters are capable of, Hermione, and I hope that you never do, and I hope that, at the end of the day, you can accept my apology, and I humbly ask for your forgiveness, because, in finding love, I now know what life is truly about.”

“Love?!” Ron demanded then, his eyes flitting between Neville and Draco and back again. “You mean to tell me that you and Neville—?!”

“We’re soul-bonded,” Neville said simply to Ron, who sputtered.

“You’re _what_?!” he cried out.

“It’s akin to marriage, Ronald,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes and shoving him out of the way, whereupon she walked towards Draco, and put out her hand. She gave Draco a smile, letting him know that she was being sincere, and they shook hands. “I forgive you,” she said softly to him, and Draco’s entire body seemed to relax then. “I trust Neville’s judgement in finding a partner, and if that partner is you, I am very pleased for it.”

Draco nodded. “Thank you, Hermione,” he said softly.

Hermione looked him over then, a deeper understanding filling her then as her eyes met his. “I don’t want to overstep, but I can’t help but ask... When will the child be born?” she asked then, and all three wizards in the room looked shocked.

“Hermione, did you—?!” Ron cried out.

“Honestly, Ronald,” Hermione said, fixing him with a look before turning back to Draco. “Well, then, Draco, I assume I’m correct. You’re carrying a baby?”

Draco nodded. “I am.”

“How could you guess at it?” Neville asked, stepping closer and putting a protective arm around Draco’s shoulders. “I mean, I didn’t know until he told me, and he’s put a spell on to make sure nobody can detect the pregnancy...”

“Muggles have an old saying that the mother—as Muggles only have children via a woman, unfortunately—will glow whilst she is pregnant,” Hermione said with a smile. “Draco, here, is glowing, although I am unsure why you wouldn’t be able to see it.”

“Perhaps it is because you’re an insufferable know-it-all,” Draco said, and Ron stepped forward to scold him, but Hermione held him back, seeing that Draco meant it in good-humor.

“Electrum,” Hermione whispered, seeing the mixture of gold and silver coming together around Draco’s form. “That’s the color you are radiating, Draco. I think your body is responding outwardly to yours and Neville’s magic mixed together, which is what your child will be, as it carries both Malfoy and Longbottom genes.”

They all four went silent then, as a massive fireplace appeared out of nowhere upon the opposite wall of the door, and green flames erupted from it then. Stepping out of it a moment later, hand in hand, was Luna Lovegood and her fiancé, Rolf Scamander, who had graduated from Hogwarts two years ahead of them all. It took them a moment to get their bearings but, once they did, Luna and Rolf smiled at the one witch and three wizards in their company.

“Hello, everyone,” Luna said, giving a small wave. “I’d like you all to formally meet Rolf, my husband,” she said, beaming.

Hermione raised her eyebrows. “You got married?”

Luna nodded, her expression dream-like as always. “We didn’t need consent, as I’m already seventeen, and Rolf here is nearly twenty,” she replied.

“I asked Xeno for permission during the Christmas holidays,” Rolf explained. “These are uncertain times, I fear, and I wanted Luna to have my name at the end of it all.” He stepped forward then, approaching Neville and Draco first. “And you must be Neville and Draco. Luna has told me a lot about the two of you,” he went on, shaking each of their hands in turn. “I am very pleased that the two of you are safe, and together.”

Neville nodded as Draco gulped in uncertainty. “Thank you, Rolf,” Neville replied.

Rolf turned then and took in Ron and Hermione with a kind smile. “Ron Weasley, I presume. I recognized you from your hair, and your portrait, like Neville,” he said, promptly putting out his hand, which Ron shook. “And Hermione Granger, prettier than your portrait, I see,” he went on, and shook Hermione’s hand. “Very nice to meet more friends of Luna’s.”

“I assume you got my Patronus, then, Luna?” Hermione asked.

Luna nodded. “Of course. We came as quickly as we could,” she said quickly. “We were with Rolf’s family, and once you get them talking about Magizoology, I’m afraid it’s a bit difficult to leave the conversation.”

Rolf smiled and gently kissed Luna’s temple. “They all adore Luna, as I do, and it was just the right amount of looniness for the holiday season.”

“What is it you needed?” Luna asked, still holding Rolf’s hand as she looked at Hermione. “You stated something about my Ravenclaw intelligence.”

Hermione nodded. “Yes. It’s been Dumbledore’s mission, then Harry’s, Ron’s, and mine, to destroy Horcruxes,” she replied.

“Pieces of You-Know-Who’s soul?” Draco whispered.

Hermione nodded, looking at him for a moment. “Exactly,” she replied, turning back to Luna. “I think—as do Ron and Harry—that the next one we’re looking for has to do with Ravenclaw. In all my reading, I’ve figured out that Rowena Ravenclaw had a diadem. I don’t suppose you would know where to find it, so it could be destroyed.”

Luna sighed. “Despite the fact that, for centuries, it has been reported lost,” she began, “if You-Know-Who took the opportunity to create a Horcrux from it, I assume it could not be as lost as originally thought.” She looked around then, and smiled, as the fireplace and the door around them disappeared, and, in their place, lots and lots of old relics and broken pieces of furniture filled the room, creating massive piles around them, and Luna smiled contentedly at what appeared to be both her and the room’s handiwork.

“Luna...?” Ron asked, suddenly finding his voice again. “What...?”

“I’ve spoken with Helena, Rowena Ravenclaw’s daughter, on many occasions,” Luna replied in a patient manner. “She’s the Ravenclaw ghost now.”

Hermione raised her eyebrows. “I see.”

“Did she give you any indication that it was in here?” Neville asked.

Luna sighed. “This is the Room of Requirement, after all,” she said lightly. “I assume it would be here, if it was anywhere in the castle.”

“She’s right,” Draco replied, smiling briefly at Luna as he looked around.

“I suppose we’ll have to pick a pile at random and start there,” Hermione said softly.

Rolf nodded. “Well, what are we waiting for, then?” he asked. “Let’s get to work.”

. . .

Harry awoke to a squeaking sound, which filled Severus’s private chambers, attached to the headmaster’s rooms at Hogwarts. Opening his eyes and carefully disengaging himself from the naked arms of his lover, he lowered his eyes to the floor then, raising his eyebrows at the source of the noise, which seemed to be from Hermione’s otter Patronus. Harry swallowed then, thus lubricating his vocal chords—which were still slightly sore from screaming Severus’s name for the past two hours—and leaned forward.

“Speak,” Harry commanded the Patronus.

“Harry,” said the Patronus in Hermione’s voice, “we’ve got the diadem. Since you’ve returned the sword to Snape, meet us in the Chamber of Secrets. We can destroy the diadem with the basilisk fang, but you’re the only one who can get us in. Hurry!”

Harry sighed, watching the otter disappear as he temporarily threw himself down upon the comfortable pillows, before he rolled over, Severus’s black eyes staring back at him. “Sorry,” he said to him, and brushed his lips with his. “Did I wake you?”

Severus shook his head with a smile. “That’s all right. I would rather spend all day with you in bed, anyway,” he admitted with a chuckle, before rolling on top of Harry, whose breath hitched in his throat at the hidden meaning behind his lover’s words. “But I fear we cannot. You have a mission to complete, my love, and you’re so close.”

Harry nodded, throwing his arms around Severus for a moment and kissing him with all the passion he had in his body before he finally untangled himself fully and got to his feet. He shot Severus a smirk as he casted a Cleaning Spell upon him, and wordlessly summoned his clothes, stepping into them quickly. “As soon as I’ve finished this, might I...?”

“Come back? I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Severus replied without hesitation, crossing over to Harry and pinning him upon the bed frame. “I want us to be together for as much time as we have, Harry.”

“For the rest of our lives?” Harry whispered.

Severus smiled. “Always,” he replied.

After kissing Severus one last time, Harry Apparated from the headmaster’s bedchambers and popped at the entrance at the Chamber of Secrets in the girl’s bathroom. His eyes nearly fell from their sockets as he took in Neville and Draco, hand-clasped, standing beside Ron and Hermione, but took it in his stride. He embraced Luna and Neville respectively, and introduced himself to Rolf with a hearty handshake, who Harry adjudged to be a good bloke, before he turned slightly reluctantly to regard Draco.

“Does this make us on the same side now?” he asked.

Draco nodded. “I suppose it does.”

Harry smiled, and stuck out his hand. “Very well, then.”

Draco took Harry’s hand and shook it firmly. “You should also know that I’m carrying Neville’s child,” he seemed to burst out before he could stop himself.

Harry raised his eyebrows. “Congratulations,” he said, surprised, and raised his eyebrows at Neville, who looked mighty pleased with himself. “All right, then,” he said, as he turned to the pillars which housed the various sinks of the lavatory. He placed his hand upon them then and whispered something in Parseltongue, before the pillars separated and lowered themselves into the floor.

“Don’t think I’ll ever get used to him doing that,” Draco muttered.

Harry shot him a smirk as he took the Elder Wand from his pocket. “ _Lumos Maxima_ ,” he said then, and illuminated the tunnel. “Who’s ready?”

Hermione took Ron’s hand and pulled him after her, their screams cutting through the blackness where the Elder Wand’s beam of light could not stretch. Next, Luna and Rolf went down, but neither screamed in fear, but exultation—everything seemed to be an adventure for them. Harry turned and looked at Neville and Draco, and Neville put an arm around Draco’s shoulders and they too flew down the shaft, and, at last, Harry flew down after them.

He was surprised to see the absence of bones once he landed, and turned to look at Ron, who sighed in slight annoyance.

“Hermione,” he muttered.

Harry turned and looked at her. “What did you...?”

“It was filthy!” she cried out, wrinkling her nose. “I merely vanished them.”

“Right,” Harry said, turning to everyone else, who appeared all right.

They approached the door down the tunnel and beyond, which still appeared as it had during Harry’s second-year attending Hogwarts. He stepped forward then, whispering in Parseltongue again, and another snake came about the rim of the door, unlocking it, permitting them all onto the rickety ladder to step down into the chamber itself.

Harry made a visible face of disgust at the dead body of the basilisk as they entered the chamber itself, but forced himself to step forward, his friends behind him, and pointed the wand at it without another moment’s hesitation. “ _Accio_ ,” he said, and one of the teeth disengaged itself from the dead beast’s jaw, and flew into his palm, thankfully not impaling it. He turned around then, relief flooding through him at the sight of Hermione holding out the diadem towards him, and took it from her. “Let’s do this,” he said, and placed it upon the stone floor.

. . .

“You’re wet and filthy!” Severus scolded, looking Harry up and down, but a quick smile of indulgence changed his tune. He opened up an inner door of his chambers and Harry was quite surprised to see a massive bathroom, complete with all the necessities. He casted a quick Cleaning Charm on Harry before he summoned the taps into an ‘on’ position, the bath quickly filling with bubbles. “Shall we?” he asked, holding out his hand to Harry.

After a luxurious bath—in which Harry and Severus brought ample pleasure to the other—to the point where Harry was glad for the invention of Silencing Charms—they returned to the bedchamber where an enormous dinner had been laid out for them. After eating their fill, they returned to bed, picking up where they’d left off that afternoon, never wanting to be parted from the other again.

“This won’t end, will it?” Harry whispered.

Severus looked perplexed. “What makes you think it will?”

Harry swallowed. “I don’t know. Perhaps when all of this is over, and I am no longer the Chosen One, and we no longer have to hide...”

Severus stared down at Harry. “What do you mean?”

“Well, would you even want to be with someone so young?” he asked.

Severus sighed. “I should be asking you whether or not you would even want to be with someone so old,” he replied.

“I love you,” Harry said simply. “I never wouldn’t want to be with you.”

“I love you, too,” Severus said. “And the same goes for me.”

Severus awoke the following morning with the overwhelming sensation that someone was awaiting him in his outer rooms, so, after putting a quick yet powerful Concealment Charm on Harry, he pulled on his clothes and stepped out into the office. He stopped short at the sight of Voldemort himself standing there, and forced a smile on his lips, putting up a Silencing Charm, as well as a blinding one towards all the portraits around them, in case they would suddenly decide to awaken and see his unexpected guest. “Forgive me, my lord, I was not expecting you this morning,” he said, and bowed to him. “How may I be of service?”

“I fear that, somehow, I’m weakened, Severus,” he replied, and he even looked and sounded weaker, which was everything Severus had hoped for, but, of course, he could not say so. “I suppose I am afraid that the boy will succeed in the mission that Albus set forth for him just before his death, at your hands,” he went on, and Severus hated to reminded of that very true fact, for it nearly broke him to do it.

“How can someone as incompetent as the boy do such a thing?” Severus said, falling back into the playacting he’d done from the beginning. “He’s lazy and arrogant. How could someone as subpar a wizard as he is even attempt to follow orders such as that?”

Voldemort sighed, squaring his shoulders. “Perhaps I had you pegged wrong, Severus,” he said quietly then.

“I’m sorry, my lord?”

He smirked. “The boy, it seems, has charmed you,” he replied.

Severus blinked. “I’m sorry, my lord. I don’t understand.”

“While you’re usually so vehement in your dislike for the boy, Severus, I find now that your words ring hollow,” he said simply. “Shame. I thought you would have been at my side until your death, but, it seems, you’ve been overtaken by a new master.”

“My lord, I...”

Voldemort stepped forward then, cutting Severus off then as he yanked his arm towards him, and rolled up his sleeve, and tutted in annoyance at the sight of the Dark Mark being gone. “Well, I suppose it had to happen sometime, what with you loving that filthy Mudblood mother of Potter’s, that you would turn against me.”

“Don’t speak of Lily like that!” Severus yelled, forgetting himself.

“ _Crucio_ ,” Voldemort said without hesitation, already pointing his wand at Severus, who doubled over in pain. “Shame. I would have thought that you bowing to me once would have been enough, but it is no longer,” he said softly, watching as Severus looked up at him from in between the raven locks of his hair. “Well, it seems the time has come for things to end, and I am all too happy to eliminate someone who no longer follows me.”

“My lord...” Severus began.

Voldemort’s silver dagger removed itself from inside his robes then, and quickly slashed Severus fatally across the throat, so that Severus fell onto his back without hesitation. “A mortal death for a mortal man,” Voldemort said. “Fitting, isn’t it?” he said, sneering down at him, before he chuckled, and Disapparated from the headmaster’s rooms.

It was the sudden falling of Severus’s body onto the floor of the headmaster’s office that had woken Harry, and he quickly grabbed the Elder Wand and dashed out into the main office, and he let out an inhuman scream as he saw his lover, lying there, in his own blood. Harry dashed forward then, holding the wand aloft, and whispered, “ _Vulnera Sanentur_ ,” over and over again, until the gashes were healed. However, he then noticed that Severus had hit his head, and, in that final moment as he propped up his lover, he spotted the tears on his face.

Harry swallowed then, wordlessly summoning a vial and catching the tears inside of it, before he cleaned himself of his lover’s blood. Tears blinding his own eyes, he walked over to the _Pensieve_  and tipped the contents of Severus’s tears into the basin, before he leaned inside of the murky depths. It was then that he was transported into a field of flowers, where two young girls stood—one brown-haired, the other a redhead—and the redhead gleefully showed off her first magical traits, whereupon the older-looking girl sneered, calling her a freak. It was then that a young, black-haired boy emerged, scaring off the older girl, and demonstrated a magical ability of his own, that set the redheaded girl at ease.

Harry swallowed then as he proceeded to see these memories, coming to the conclusion that the girl was none other than his own mother, and that she and Severus had been close. The notion that his own father had been the one to torment him, and to inadvertently steal his closest friend away from him, made Severus’s secrets all the more raw. As he continued watching, he saw a conversation between Severus and Dumbledore, after the curse of the Gaunt ring had entered his former headmaster’s hand, and realized that it was Dumbledore who had requested that Severus murder him to save Draco from having a death on his conscience.

“You must be the one to kill me, Severus. It is the only way.” Dumbledore continued speaking in this manner then, and then, as always, the topic seemed drift over to him. “There will be a time when they boy must be told something,” the man continued, “but you must wait until Voldemort is at his most vulnerable.”

Severus looked annoyed then; clearly, this was before either had acknowledged burgeoning feelings towards the other. “Must be told what?” he asked.

“On the night that Voldemort went to Godric’s Hollow to kill Harry, the curse rebounded,” the dead headmaster continued, and Harry looked from one of them to the other. “And the piece of Voldemort’s soul that managed to survive, latched itself on the only living thing it could find—Harry himself.”

Harry felt as if seven rogue Bludgers had hit him then, and felt suddenly ill.

“So, when the time comes, the boy must die?” Severus asked.

“Yes,” Dumbledore replied. “He must die.”

“You’ve been keeping him alive so that he can die at the proper moment,” Severus said, as he stepped cautiously towards Dumbledore, and something akin to devastation filled his eyes, which truly set Harry alight. “You’ve been raising him like a pig for slaughter.”

“Don’t tell me now that you’ve grown to care for the boy?”

Severus hesitated for a moment, before he whispered, “ _Expecto Patronum_ ,” and the very doe which had met Harry in Sherwood Forest danced around the room for a moment before it flitted out the window, and beyond, Severus never taking his eyes off of it.

“Lily,” Dumbledore said, turning to look at Severus.

“What?” Severus whispered, confused.

“Lily,” Dumbledore repeated, slower this time. “After all this time?”

Severus sighed then, dragging his hand down his face. “Not Lily,” he replied, his tone broken as he shook his head.

“Severus?” Dumbledore asked.

“Harry,” he replied, and raised his eyes to Dumbledore’s then without hesitation. “It was always Harry, Albus. Always,” he told him. He hesitated for a moment, almost as if he wanted confirmation from the very real fact that Dumbledore had just spoken. “So, when the time comes, the boy must die?”

“Yes, he must die. And Voldemort himself must do it. It is essential.”

Harry flew up from the Pensieve then, shaking his head as he clutched his heart, knowing then as he had known all along that a part of Voldemort lived inside him. He stared down at the Elder Wand then, wondering what would happen if he simply... “ _Evanesco_ ,” he whispered then, pointing the wand at his heart, and felt lighter than he had in a very long time. Charred remains of something, and ash-like smoke came off from him then, and disappeared as quickly as they had appeared in mid-air, and Harry felt as if he had truly been all along—Harry James Potter, the Chosen One, just Harry. He then turned to Severus, who was still unconscious upon the floor, and nodded to himself.

He sent his Patronus to Madam Pomfrey, letting her know what had happened, and knowing that the mediwitch would be along momentarily to fetch the headmaster. Next, as he turned around and walked into Severus’s rooms, where all of his things and his rucksack were, he sent his Patronus to Professor McGonagall, instructing her to look deeply into the Pensieve, which would exonerate Severus from any wrongdoing, he hoped. And, finally, he sent off a final Patronus to Ron and Hermione, as he was finally dressed and his things were packed.

“I’m going to You-Know-Who,” he said gently. “I’ve got a few ideas of where he could be. I’m going alone. I know how to handle him now. Keep Hogwarts and each other safe.” He nodded to the stag then, who bowed to him and left the room. He stepped back out into the headmaster’s office then, before he leaned down and kissed Severus’s brow. “I know what to do now,” he whispered to his lover. “I know how to kill him, because I’m not a Horcrux anymore. You-Know-Who is now at his most vulnerable. I’m going to kill him, my love.” His voice broke then before he leaned down and kissed his lover’s lips. “You’ll never know how much I love you, but I do. And I’ll come back for you as soon as I can. I love you so much, Severus Snape. I’ll leave you with this question: Will you marry me when I return?” he whispered then, his voice hitching at the end as he heard footsteps outside the door, and quickly Apparated out of there, before anyone could even attempt to stop him from going.


	9. The Trials of Love

Ginny took the news that Snape had been injured in her own way, although when she heard that Professor McGonagall had sent for Kingsley Shacklebolt in the wake of Madam Pomfrey delivering their headmaster to the hospital wing, she began to grow concerned. Not only that, she had been with Ron and Hermione—after yelling at them for not coming to find her when they’d first arrived at the castle—when Harry’s Patronus came galloping into the Gryffindor common room, and her jaw nearly hit the floor at his addressing them.

“I’m going to You-Know-Who,” came Harry’s voice, gentle, just as Ginny had remembered it, from betwixt the lips of the glowing stag. “I’ve got a few ideas of where he could be. I’m going alone. I know how to handle him now. Keep Hogwarts and each other safe.”

“He’s got to be gone already,” Hermione wailed, putting her face into her hands, and Ron seemed to automatically put his arm around her shoulders as she sobbed.

“Really?!” Ginny demanded, throwing herself to her feet and pacing around the room. “That’s just brilliant, now isn’t it?! The bloody Chosen One choosing to go gallivanting off to find the darkest wizard of them all, alone—!”

Dean, who had heard Harry’s voice as he came down the stairs, stepped at last into the common room, surprised to see Ron comforting Hermione in front of the couch before the fireplace, and then turned to see Ginny walking back and forth. “Gin?” he asked, stepping forward, and she whirled around to face him, her great mane of red hair pluming around her beautiful face. “It’s going to be all right,” he assured her. “Harry knows what he’s doing.”

“All right?! All _right_?!” Ginny thundered out, throwing her hands up into the air. “You may as well say that he’s walked off to his death, Dean!”

“Oh, no!” Hermione cried out then, fresh sobs wracking her body, and Ron kissed her temple, before glaring at his only sister.

“Gin, really, could you be a little more considerate?” he hissed, wrapping himself like a security blanket around Hermione.

“Gin, come on,” Dean said, his voice coaxing as he stepped towards her and gently took ahold of her shoulders. “Breathe,” he told her, and kissed her forehead, which made Ron look away from the pair of them. “It’s all right.”

Ginny sighed, placated by the words of her boyfriend at last, and slumped in his arms. “I’m sorry, Dean,” she said softly to him. “It’s not because I’m in love with Harry anymore or anything like that...”

“He was your friend first,” Dean said gently to her. “I do understand.”

Ginny pulled back then and gazed into his dark eyes, before she smiled up at him. “You were always so considerate and understanding,” she said, and it pleased her to be filled with warmth whenever she looked at him, and he looked at her. “Thank you for being the perfect boyfriend for me, Dean Thomas.”

“Careful, Dean,” Ron warned with a smirk as Hermione dried her eyes and composed herself, and Dean turned to look at Ron. “You haven’t seen anything of the Prewett temper yet. Gin inherited it from our mum’s side.”

“Why, you!” Ginny yelled, and moved towards Ron, but Dean held her back.

“It’s all right,” Dean said, kissing Ginny’s temple, which made her mutter for a moment before she calmed herself. “I’ve grown used to it, and I’ll have to for the time being.”

Ginny flushed as she whipped around then, facing Dean, and shook her head. “Dean, we said that we weren’t going to tell anyone just yet...”

“Tell anyone what?!” Ron demanded then, getting the gist of what was going on as he flew to his feet, and Hermione quickly moved between them. “Dean? What in Merlin’s name did you do to my sister?!”

“Ronald, honestly!” Hermione cried out. “It’s nothing to—!”

“Wait,” Ron said, his eyes darting to Hermione’s. “You know?”

Dean looked at Ginny. “Hermione knows?” he asked, and she bit her lip. “Not that I mind, you can tell anyone you want, but...”

“She guessed,” Ginny said, the air plummeting out of her lungs as she leaned into Dean. “I’ve never lied to Hermione, and I didn’t intend on starting now.”

“What are you keeping from me, Hermione?!” Ron demanded.

“Ronald Weasley, stop!” Hermione shouted, holding him back.

“I’m pregnant, all right?!” Ginny said, and Ron stopped struggling against Hermione while his mouth dropped open. “I’m pregnant.”

Ron stared at her then, before his eyes flickered momentarily to Dean before coming back to rest upon Ginny. “How long?”

“The Halloween Feast, if you could call it that,” Ginny said quietly. “The Carrows took delight in torturing some less-fortunate students that night, mostly Half-Bloods. It’s a miracle that Dean has managed to go on undetected for so long,” she said softly.

“So, that puts you at around two months?” Hermione asked.

Ginny nodded. “Yeah. We only found out over Christmas when Dean came to stay with all of us at the Burrow, because his family is in hiding from the ministry. We somehow managed to keep it under wraps from Mum and Dad.”

“What do you plan to do then?” Ron demanded then, fixing Dean with a look and crossing his arms in a moment of protectiveness. “Will you do right by my sister?”

“Ron!” Ginny shouted, flushing an even deeper pink.

“Honestly, Ronald, things are different nowadays,” Hermione said, shooting her fiancé a look before turning to Ginny. “I’ll be here whenever you need me, all right?”

“Thanks, Hermione,” Ginny said, looking up at Ron again. “And you?”

Ron ignored Ginny, and kept right on staring at Dean. “Well? What are you going to do for my sister, Thomas?”

“Surnames, really?” Ginny muttered, rolling her eyes.

“I fully intend to marry Ginny when she is of age, unless your parents give their consent before that happens,” Dean said firmly to Ron. “However, Ginny has requested we not tell your parents, which will prove difficult, considering that the child is expected in July, a full month before Ginny reaches that age. You can hardly hide a baby.”

“They’ll consent,” Ron said, looking annoyed. “Mum will be shocked, but Dad will come around if you really love her.”

“I really love her,” Dean assured Ron.

Ron sighed, looking down at his sister. “This is what you want, then?”

Ginny nodded. “This is what I want.”

Ron swallowed then, his eyes drifting towards Hermione, who fixed him with a look, and he quickly turned back to Ginny. “I’ll be here whenever you need me, Gin.”

Ginny smiled then, and approached Ron, hugging him. “Thank you, Ron. I wouldn’t expect anything less as your little sister,” she joked.

. . .

Ginny and Dean stood before the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room six weeks later, on the night of Valentine’s Day. Ron and Hermione, along with Neville and Draco, as well as Luna and Rolf, were having a triple date in the Room of Requirement. As for the rest of the students at Hogwarts, the ones who were third-years and above were permitted to spend their time at Hogsmeade that day, and Madam Puddifoot’s was rumored to be overbooked, as usual, while the second and first years were given extra study time in the library.

Dean and Ginny preferred some time alone that Valentine’s Day, as Ginny had finally given Dean permission to fire-call her mother and father. Today, Dean was about to lay all his cards on the table, literally, and ask Arthur and Molly Weasley for permission to marry Ginny. Given that she was just starting to show just a bit in her pregnancy, and he wanted them to know just how committed he was to their only daughter.

“Remember,” Ginny said as she crouched beside Dean, clasping his hand, “it’s Mum that you’ve got to worry about, not Dad.”

Dean smiled at her. “I remember what Ron said, don’t worry,” he said gently. He summoned the Burrow through the Floo Network then, and, quite soon, the faces of Arthur and Molly Weasley appeared in the fireplace. “Good afternoon, Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley,” Dean said to the pair of them, deliberately attempting to sound confident.

“Good afternoon to you, too, Dean,” Arthur replied warmly, the kindness reaching his eyes, and turned to smile at his daughter. “Hello, Ginny.”

“Hey, Dad. Mum,” Ginny said, her tone more nervous than she intended.

“Ginny, dear, are you well? You look pale,” Molly said softly.

“I’m...not unwell, Mum,” Ginny replied, her tone slightly shaky as Dean took her hand again. “I suppose that’s one of the reasons we’re talking to you.”

“Is everything all right between the two of you?” Arthur asked.

Dean sighed then, knowing that it was now or never. “Mr. Weasley...”

“Arthur, please, Dean,” Arthur said, his voice warm as he smiled at Dean.

“I wanted to let the two of you know how much I love and care for Ginny,” Dean said quietly, and squeezed her hand.

“Thank you, Dean,” Arthur said with a nod. “That is much appreciated. We love and care for her as well, and want all the best for her.”

“Headmaster Snape sent a note to me just before the Christmas feast that I can move into seventh-year classes,” Ginny said softly, knowing that it would likely be best to start off with some positive news. “I’ve been taking them for the past few weeks, which means I’ll be graduating in June with Dean.”

“That’s wonderful, Ginny,” Molly said happily. “Why didn’t you say anything over Christmas when you were with us?”

Ginny sighed. “Well, because Dean and I discovered something and we didn’t know how to come forward with that bit of information,” she confessed.

Arthur blinked. “What sort of information, sweetheart?” he asked.

“I found out that I was pregnant,” Ginny said quietly, and heard her mother’s gasp from behind the flames, while Arthur merely raised his eyebrows at the pair of them. “I told Dean, and we decided we’d figure it out together.”

“The problem is, Ginny won’t be of age until August, a full two months after we graduate, and a month after the baby is due to arrive,” Dean said quickly. “So, we’ve come to you today because we want permission to be married. I’ve asked Ginny, and she’s accepted. Of course, if we don’t get your consent, we cannot do so after the baby is born.”

“But I want to marry Dean as soon as possible,” Ginny said, quickly taking up where Dean had left off. “We’re very happy, and we’re excited about this pregnancy. We want to raise this child as a proper family, and we’d like to do so as husband and wife.”

“Ginny,” whispered Molly, who apparently had started crying at the thought of her only daughter ending up pregnant at only sixteen. “Why...? When did...? Oh, Ginny,” she moaned, and put her head into her hands.

“She’s overwhelmed with happiness,” Arthur assured them, fixing an amused smile onto his face and putting an arm around Molly.

“Is she?” Dean asked, looking unsure.

“Of course—comes with the marriage territory, where you know exactly how your spouse is feeling at any given moment,” he explained. “You have our permission to marry, Dean. We’ll fetch the necessary contract from the ministry and have it sent to you, all signed, by the end of the week. After you get it, all the two of you need to do is sign it, plus Professor McGonagall, as she is your Head of House, per tradition. And then I’ll file it with the ministry and, once it’s filed, you’ve got permission.”

Dean nodded. “How long does the process take?”

“No more than six weeks,” Arthur replied. “And, hey, it beats waiting for your next birthday to marry him, doesn’t it, Ginny?”

Ginny laughed uneasily then as Molly walked away from Arthur, presumably towards the kitchen and out of sight. “Is she all right, Dad?”

“She’ll be fine,” Arthur assured them. “We’ll get you the paperwork quickly, Dean.” He reached out of the fire then and put out his hand. “I know you’ll do right by my daughter.”

Dean reached out and took his hand. “Thank you, Arthur,” he replied, and shook his future father-in-law’s hand. “I will.”

. . .

Once Ginny and Dean’s paperwork had been signed by everybody involved, as well as Arthur fetching it back from there, there was naught to do but wait. Arthur had received the paperwork on a Saturday, so unfortunately he would be unable to turn it into the ministry until the following Monday, but all Ginny cared about was the notion that she could officially call herself engaged to Dean Thomas at the end of the day. It was different, she knew, the second time around in their relationship, when there were no ulterior motives. And although her pregnancy had been unplanned, to say the least, she was looking forward to becoming a mother more so than she had about anything else in the world. She looked forward to the movements from the baby, the birth of course, as well as the child growing up and speaking, casting spells, and the utter joy and love this child would ultimately bring to everyone who met it.

It was a quiet week, with Ron and Hermione alternating between the Gryffindor common room and the Room of Requirement to hide out, using Harry’s invisibility cloak for protection. Ginny was pleased that her future sister-in-law was around constantly, talking to her and assuring her that things would be all right. Ginny had no idea that things would’ve turned out the way they were going to, and if she had been forewarned, she would’ve acted less impulsively. She had been doing so much better, in the months previously, by not acting in such a way, but, as everyone knew, old habits really did die hard.

She had reached out to the Floo Network, wondering if Harry was using Grimmauld Place as a base; it was a good a guess as any, as he had inherited the property upon Sirius Black’s death. It would have been so simple, had not Pansy Parkinson caught her. Of course, without being in possession of the Marauder’s Map, Ginny had no way of knowing that the Slytherin Head Girl, hell-bent on revenge since Draco had formally gotten the courage to end his engagement to her on a rather public scale just moments before, and discovered that the youngest Weasley girl was lurking in the Great Hall after hours. The fireplace was bigger there, and so accessing the Floo Network’s connections would be far easier to do. Ginny had no way of knowing that being clobbered on the head would happen, but it did.

“Shame,” said Alecto Carrow to her brother, staring at Ginny as she lay on the stone floor of the Great Hall. They had been in hiding within the castle since Minerva McGonagall had been named interim headmistress, and had proclaimed Filius Flitwick as her Deputy Head, and had formally banished the torture-loving siblings, but they had not seen fit to leave.

“Pretty girl,” muttered Amycus with disdain, rolling his eyes. “Too bad she is a Gryffindor and a Blood Traitor.”

Alecto laughed as Amycus levitated the girl, her red hair matching and concealing the gash they had successfully made upon the back of her head, which dripped onto the stone floor. She was quick to vanish it as they slipped out of the Great Hall, and they quickly brought her down to the dungeons, which were, of course, quiet. They brought her into one of the abandoned rooms and shackled her, before Amycus turned to his sister.

“What shall we do with her?” he asked.

Alecto laughed again, maddeningly so, which drew a slow smile onto Amycus’s lips. “Nobody is here to put rules in place for the two of us, brother,” she said, grinning at him. “If I may, might I have the first honor?”

Amycus nodded, stepping back from Ginny and motioning towards her. “Fire away, as it were, dear sister,” he said, humor deep within his tone.

Alecto’s wand came out from within her robes then, pleased that her brother had allowed her the luxury of going first, and she was quick to put in precautions, so as, if the Weasley girl woke up, she wouldn’t cry out and ruin their careful handiwork. “ _Immobulus_ ,” she said without hesitation, and Ginny went ridged from inside her shackles. “ _Crucio_ ,” she said, and, although unconscious, Ginny squirmed from within her restraints, yet was unable to cry out.

After a few moments, Amycus put a careful arm onto Alecto, and she stepped back, stopping her attack on Ginny, and permitted her brother to step forward. “ _Crucio_ ,” he said without hesitation, and, this time, Ginny did let out a squeak, due to the fact that Amycus put more power behind the word than Alecto had done.

Alecto laughed, taking delight in watching her brother torture someone as filthy as a Pureblood so willing to turn against her own kind. She knew about her relationship with that Half-Blood Dean Thomas, which was disgusting, to say the least. It set her teeth on edge, to see them so happy and pleased to be in the other’s company; such things should be illegal. The very fact that the Dark Lord preached that such things like mating with other Blood Statuses made Alecto’s blood boil, and she would never allow her blood to be so tainted.

Ginny struggled then; the curses against her were coming at full speed, and she could feel her magical core threatening to burst, to resist, but something was holding her back. But, she knew, as she was purer of heart than these two monsters ever were, and that she had another life to protect, so had to at least try. She felt herself running towards the breaking point and, when she reached it, there was so turning back. Wordlessly, she broke her bonds and the curse upon her, her own wand coming out from her sleeve, and stared them down.

To their credit, the Carrow siblings were equally shocked at the young witch who stood before them, albeit on a pair of shaking legs, a blazing look on her face. Rage emitted from every fiber of her being as she stood before them, and, as she slowly raised her wand, they knew that neither of them stood a chance against her, for their time had come for a reckoning, and the said reckoning would not be kind. Ginny raised her wand completely then, facing the two of them, and the blue light came forth as soon as she spoke. “ _Expulso_!” came her scream then, and the blast came at the two of them, and both Carrow siblings were no more, and Ginny was suddenly overcome with exhaustion as her knees buckled, her last words, “ _Expecto Patronum_ ,” slipping through her lips as her horse went trotting from the room to Dean, as Ginny lay in an ever-growing pool of her own blood.

. . .

Hermione dashed into the hospital wing just after breakfast, after she’s gotten word from Madam Pomfrey that Ginny was awake and asking for her. She’d deliberately told Ron that she was going to the library, and he’d decided not to come with her, of course. She ran into the hospital wing as quickly as her legs would carry her, and came to a complete stop in front of Ginny’s bed, and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Ginny,” she whispered, stepping closer and perching in the chair she’d occupied on and off for the past week, ever since Dean had brought her into the hospital wing. “Are you all right?” she went on, taking Ginny’s offered hand and squeezing it. “We’ve all been so worried about you for the past few days.”

Ginny sighed then. “Water,” she whispered.

Hermione nodded, conjuring a cup and whispering, “ _Aguamenti_ ,” into it before handing it over to Ginny, who took it, and sipped it. “How are you feeling?”

Ginny sighed, swallowing the water and keeping ahold of the cup. “I’ll be fine. Nothing I can’t handle from the Carrows...”

“They did this to you?” Hermione demanded in anger. “Professor McGonagall sent them away...”

“Must’ve been hiding out somewhere, biding their time and planning their strategy for a decent attack,” she said, her voice soft.

“What were you doing in the Great Hall anyhow?”

Ginny nipped at her lower lip for a moment before answering. “I... I was trying to get in touch with Harry.”

Hermione blinked. “Harry? Why?”

“We haven’t heard from him. I was worried.”

Hermione sighed. “Ginny...”

“It’s not because I’m still in love with him. I love Dean,” Ginny said quickly, cutting Hermione off as fast as she could. “It’s because I’m worried about him, as a friend. I just didn’t know what else to do.”

Hermione sighed. “All right. And what happened?”

“The Carrows found me, I don’t know how, but I suppose attempting to contact Harry via the Floo Network in the Great Hall wasn’t the best idea.”

Hermione nodded. “No, I suppose not.”

“They hit me on the head,” Ginny continued, and Hermione’s eyes narrowed. “I was taken into the dungeons and they shackled me, silenced me, and tortured me.”

Hermione lowered her eyes. “I am so sorry, Ginny.”

“I broke through the torture,” she replied, and Hermione’s eyes snapped to hers. “Even though they held me there—bonds and by words—I didn’t give up. I broke through and got them to stop for good.”

“Ginny...”

“I killed them, yes,” she said, her voice soft, “and I don’t mind if I’m carted off to Azkaban for it, really I don’t.”

Hermione swallowed. “If that is the case, if they tortured you, you acted in self-defense. These are desperate times, Ginny, but I hardly think...”

“They... They killed my baby,” Ginny said, the broken words falling from Ginny’s lips as she remembered the pool of blood around her.

Hermione’s eyes widened. “They what?”

“I can’t feel it anymore,” she whispered, putting a hand to her now-flat stomach. “I just remember something bursting from within me, and then I fell... Blood, there was so much blood around me, and it just kept getting worse and worse,” she said, sobbing now, and Hermione launched forward and pulled Ginny into her arms. “They could have killed me, but it was my baby they took,” she whispered brokenly.

. . .

Harry had been hiding out for weeks, planning accordingly for his next move. He’d taken Hermione’s tent with him, so he was not at a loss for a place to sleep. Now that he had the Elder Wand in his possession, he also put Concealment Charms upon himself, changing his appearance without the aid of Polyjuice Potion, so that he was free to walk around to fetch supplies, mostly food and clothing, without detection. Nobody saw through the disguises, due to the fact that they had been made by the Elder Wand, and Harry, for once, felt safe.

It was when he finally arrived at Riddle House on the third Friday in April that he felt his nerves finally attempting to get the better of him. However, he knew as he Apparated on the outskirts of the land that he was ready. He could cast charms quickly and from many miles away, and he used his Omnioculars to immobilize the Death Eaters standing guard outside. Next, he put up a barrier so that nobody could come in or leave the surrounding area, meaning that he would not have to constantly look over his shoulder. It was then that he started forward, putting blinders on the windows of the manor as he went, so that no one could alert Voldemort of his approach, alone, and that it would all end here.

Harry let himself into Riddle House easily, so much so that it was merely child’s play. He stepped past the foyer, and when Antonin Dolohov attempted to block his way, Harry killed him without a second thought. He continued, either killing or _Obliviating_ anyone who dared cross paths with him, although he took a moment of satisfaction to _Crucio_ Fenrir Greyback before he killed him for what he did to Remus. When he came to what he assumed would be a grand room of some sort and stepped inside, he saw the Dark Lord himself sitting in a rather bored manner on a carved throne, but he visibly perked up when Harry entered.

“Ah, if it isn’t the great Harry Potter,” he said.

Harry was quick to notice that Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy stood off to the side, but Bellatrix Lestrange was practically kneeling beside the Dark Lord himself. He looked at the Malfoys for a moment before he waved the wand at them. “ _Depulso_ ,” he said, already having a destination in mind—Malfoy Manor. With a scream from them both, they vanished, and Bellatrix was quick to get to her feet.

“You filthy Half-Blood!” she screamed, advancing upon him them.

With a flick of his wand, he said, “ _Avada Kedavra_!” and Bellatrix was quick to crumple to the floor after the ball of green light hit her. “For Frank and Alice Longbottom,” he spat down at her before raising his eyes to the Dark Lord. “Care to be next, Tom?” he asked.

Voldemort got to his feet then, surveying Harry. “You dare challenge me?”

Harry smiled. “You set this in motion from the moment you killed my parents. You only brought this on yourself. And do you know why? It is because a part of me lived inside you,” Harry said to him, and the Dark Lord looked shocked at the declaration. “I was the Horcrux you never meant to create.”

“What are you...?”

“This is the Elder Wand,” Harry went on, flicking it slightly with his wrist. “ _Immobulus_ ,” he said, not wanting Voldemort to make any sudden or unwanted moves towards him, and the wand worked brilliantly, for the Dark Lord seized up before him and was unable to move. “The last living part of your soul latched onto me when I was just a baby, that night in Godric’s Hollow, moments after you killed my mother, and attempted to kill me as well,” Harry went on, and he swore Voldemort’s eyes widened at the declaration. “Most people think that me killing you is part of a prophecy to end this war. It suddenly changed the moment you attempted to kill the love of my life,” Harry said flatly to the Dark Lord, who was visibly attempting to squirm against the charm Harry had cast upon him. “I’m here to avenge all the pain and suffering you inflicted upon Severus Snape. It ends now,” he said, his voice firm. “ _Avada Kedavra_ ,” he said then, and another green beam of light flew from the wand, striking Lord Voldemort directly in the chest, which caused the dark wizard to crumple in a mess of black robes, and fall to his death at Harry’s feet.

Harry swallowed then, knowing that the very thing he had been preparing for the last seven years for was finally complete. He thought of everything he hadn’t been able to do in the years that had gone by, and how much of his life he had spent preparing to kill this man, or what once was a man, and now was pure darkness and death. He sent his Patronus to Kingsley Shacklebolt, trusting him to handle everything accordingly.

“His body can be found in the throne room of Riddle House,” he instructed his stag to say. “You know what to do. I shall be at Grimmauld Place, resting, if you have need of me.” Harry sent off his stag with a nod, and crossed over to the fireplace of the throne room, spotting the pot of Floo Powder, as he found he was far too exhausted to Apparate. He grabbed a handful of the powder and tossed it in, and the green flames roared to life. “Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place,” he spoke into the flames, before he stepped inside, coming out the other end inside the living room of his inherited house. “Kreacher.”

The house elf popped into view, and Harry was surprised at how well-kept the house looked, despite the Death Eater attack which caused him, Ron, and Hermione to leave. “Master Harry has returned to Kreacher,” he said, bowing. “What would Master Harry like?”

“A sandwich, I think,” Harry said quietly. He’d wanted to ask for a treacle tart, but he knew he would have to watch what he ate now. “If it’s not too much trouble...”

“Of course not, Master Harry,” Kreacher said, bowing. “Kreacher longs to serve the House of Black and Potter. Will there be anything else?”

Harry sighed, removing his cloak that he’d been wearing to conceal his condition, and he noticed that Kreacher looked shocked at what his master had been hiding. “I may be pregnant, Kreacher, but I am still your master. An exhausted one,” he put in, and Kreacher bowed.

“Pardon Kreacher for staring, Master Harry,” the house-elf said quickly.

Harry waved it away. “No matter. I’ll have some tea with those sandwiches,” he instructed Kreacher quickly.

“And a treacle tart, Master Harry?”

Harry sighed, and finally nodded as he walked towards the staircase. “Yes, Kreacher. I am going to take a shower and get cleaned up. I shall be down in twenty minutes.”

“Yes, Master Harry,” Kreacher said, and Harry was vaguely aware of Kreacher’s scurrying feet going towards the kitchen.

Harry walked into Sirius’s bedroom, knowing that it would be his room from now on, now that all of it was over. A lynx awaited him in his bedroom, and Harry raised his eyebrows at the creature, before recognizing it at Kingsley Shacklebolt’s Patronus. “Speak,” Harry said to the creature, and it yowled indulgently at him.

“Thank you, Harry, for doing what we all knew you had in you from the beginning,” the lynx spoke in Kingsley’s voice. “We can see from the scene that you killed not only Tom Riddle but also Bellatrix Lestrange, Antonin Dolohov, and Fenrir Greyback. I can only assume that they came after you in some way, and we’ll chalk it up to self-defense, so no harm done. The other Death Eaters who you _Obliviated_ or immobilized have been taken to Azkaban, so nothing to worry about. There is a task force already in place to take down the other Death Eaters who may have already scattered, made up of highly-trained Aurors. If you are interested, send me an owl at your earliest convenience if you wish to be a part of this task force, for I know how much you want to be an Auror. Let me know after a much-deserved rest.” The lynx bowed to Harry then before it flitted out the window.

Harry sighed, squaring his shoulders as he summoned his wand from his rucksack and pointing the Elder Wand at it. “ _Reparo_ ,” he said softly, and the phoenix feather lit up as the pieces molded together. Harry then summoned a pillow from his bed with his old wand, and it came flying to him. Pleased, Harry put the Elder wand into his sack and tried to smile, but found that his lips could not form the motion.

Setting his rucksack onto the bed, he mechanically went through the motions of his shower, before heading downstairs and eating the food that Kreacher had prepared, before thanking the elf and heading back to his bedroom. Switching off the light, he put both wands underneath his pillow and lay upon Sirius’s old bed, his bed. Shutting his eyes, he thought of the events of the day, and that all of his life had led up to this. Tears formed in his eyes, knowing that the only way to end a war was more death, which crushed him, as he sobbed quietly, which finally lulled him off to sleep.

. . .

Ginny was up on her feet again that morning, pacing back and forth in the Room of Requirement, quickly growing impatient with Kingsley Shacklebolt. She knew, as the interim Minister of Magic, that he likely had many laws to overturn or paperwork to read, but the notion that a visit with six seventh-years and one Hogwarts alumni didn’t seem to be a top-priority for him was quickly getting on her nerves. She’d healed well for the torture of the Carrows and her subsequent miscarriage, but she was more fiery than ever, and even as she looked down at the ruby and pearl ring that Dean had presented to her upon the Ministry of Magic’s allowing them to be married, she was still annoyed.

“Ginny,” Hermione said gently.

“Let it go, Hermione,” Ron said softly to her, putting an arm around her shoulders. “You know she’ll never let up about it.”

“Ginny’s merely working off some steam,” Luna said softly, leaning back so that she was fully in her husband’s arms. “Give her a moment.”

“You always know just what to say, dearest,” Rolf said quietly.

Draco huffed, running his hands over his stomach; since he had come clean about his pregnancy and his soul-bond with Neville—just hours before to his mother and father in the wake of Tom Riddle’s death—he was much more at ease and comfortable among his new friends. “She’ll probably wear a hole through the floor,” he muttered.

Neville smirked and kissed his husband’s temple. “Who would fault her if she didn’t?”

“Who would fault her if she did?” Dean questioned, getting to his feet and catching at Ginny in mid-pace, and she looked into his eyes. “Breathe, love.”

“Is that what you’re going to say to me next winter?”

Ron turned and looked down at Hermione. “What?”

She smiled. “I’m not a hundred-percent sure yet—it would only be a few weeks—but something tells me that...” She was cut off by Ron kissing Hermione passionately, and she mewled slightly into his mouth. “Godric, Ron! Not in front of—!”

“I don’t care! Voldemort’s dead and you’re mine and... Thank Merlin, if it’s true!” he shouted then, his hands roving around Hermione’s belly.

The fireplace in the Room of Requirement appeared a moment later before blazing to life, and the respective couples immediately got to their feet as Kingsley stepped into the room with a smile for all of them. He congratulated Ron and Hermione, and Dean and Ginny, on their engagements, as well as Luna and Rolf on their marriage, and Draco and Neville on their soul-bond and pregnancy.

“Now, I am a very busy man, as I’m sure you all know,” he said firmly, although his tone was gentle. “How may I help you today?”

“Where’s Harry?!” Ginny burst out, rushing forward.

“Yeah!” Ron said, crossing his arms. “Where is he?”

Kingsley sighed. “I thought it was made abundantly clear this morning in the papers—both _The Profit_ and _The Quibbler_ —that Harry Potter doesn’t wish to be contacted by anyone. He’s gone through quite an ordeal, and he merely wishes for solitude.”

“Do you know where he is?” Hermione demanded, her eyes flashing.

Kingsley swallowed then, knowing that it was quite clear that he had a decision to make as to whom he shared Harry’s whereabouts with. “Miss Granger, I do not doubt your abilities to compel me to tell you such a thing—perhaps you should be a barrister,” he said, and Hermione was momentarily distracted by the compliment. “However, I cannot deny the savior of the Wizarding World this one piece of haven that he has requested. If he wishes to be alone, you must respect that, and permit him to come to you when he’s ready.”

“What if he doesn’t?” Neville asked.

Kingsley turned to Neville. “I’m sorry?”

“You heard my husband,” Draco said, stroking his stomach again. “What if Harry doesn’t tell us where he is?”

The Minister of Magic nodded for a moment in understanding. “Well, if he doesn’t, you can draw your own conclusions from that. However, I am not at liberty to discuss Mr. Potter’s whereabouts to you.”

“He’s my brother,” Ron said, growing annoyed.

Hermione nodded. “Mine too.”

“Which makes him mine as well,” Ginny said, her tone heated.

“Isn’t that enough?” Ron asked, squaring his shoulders. “My family took him in from the time we started Hogwarts, and we would’ve kept him, too, were it not for those goddamned Blood Wards that Dumbledore insisted be kept intact at that Muggle house of horrors,” he went on, anger peppering every word of his tone, for he now grasped fully just what had happened underneath the roof of Harry’s relatives. “Please, Kingsley, he’s been my brother since we were eleven. Please...tell us.”

The minister sighed again. “I understand and appreciate how much you care for your friend, Mr. Weasley, and such a thing is truly admirable. However, since you are not a blood relative of Mr. Potter—and merely a best friend and brother in spirit—I am afraid cannot share that information with you, because he specifically requested to be left alone.”

“Even by us?” Hermione asked, watching as Kingsley turned around, his blue and purple cloak trailing behind him as he walked towards the fire.

Kingsley sighed, taking a handful of Floo Powder and tossing it into the flames, before turning back to Hermione. “Until or unless he says I can, Miss Granger, I am afraid that this subject is, and must remain, closed,” he said, stepping into the flames, which already seemed to know his intended destination, as they swallowed him up.


	10. The Fading of the Light

It was not a total and complete surprise to Harry when his wards finally failed on the second day of May, and Hermione came storming into the sitting room at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, with Ron lurking meekly behind her. Once she saw Harry—huddled on the couch and wrapped in its afghan, so as it would hide his pregnancy from all he wished not to see it—she let out a shout of exasperation and darted towards him, throwing her arms around him, to the point where Harry actually believed he would suffocate. Thankfully, once he looked to Ron for help, his best mate stepped in and helpfully pulled Hermione off of him, while Harry summoned Kreacher to bring in a tea tray for them all.

“Honestly, Ronald,” Hermione said, glaring at her fiancé as she smoothed her blouse and skirt combo, and sat petulantly in the love seat beside the couch, crossing her legs at the knee, but nevertheless allowed Ron to sit upon the loveseats’ arm. “Well, Harry, now that we’re finally in the same room with you again...”

“Hermione,” Ron said warningly, and she flushed pink. “Don’t start. Kingsley’ll be mad that we even managed to break through here in the first place. The last thing we need is the Minister for Magic on our tails now that we work for the government.”

Harry blinked, thanking Kreacher minutely before he turned back to Ron and Hermione. “You’re working for the government?” he asked.

Ron nodded. “Yeah, mate. I’m a head for one of the task forces in charge of bringing Death Eaters to Azkaban,” he explained. “It’ll look good on my resume for when I make Auror, and McGonagall signed a waiver so I don’t have to graduate, which means I can focus all my time on the program itself.”

Harry nodded. “And you, Hermione?”

“What else? I’m in training for the new division at the ministry,” she said softly. “We’ve decided to call it, for now, at least, Muggle Civil Rights within the Wizarding World,” she explained, and her eyes were shining with excitement. “I’m sort of the barrister within the organization, and you’d be surprised how much of a benefit Draco has been.”

“Really?” Harry asked, surprised.

Hermione nodded. “Oh, yes. Once Lucius and Narcissa found out that he and Neville were expecting their first grandchild, all they want to do is see him happy. Draco is the treasurer of sorts within the organization, rallying and networking other witches and wizards to donate as much as possible to the cause, or as much as he can, due to his pregnancy. It’s really going along as best as can be expected, although there is some reluctance from the older Pureblood families within this new regime. Of course, having a reformed Pureblood among them is causing a lot of them to turncoat the old ways, thankfully.”

Harry nodded. “I can understand that.”

“We’ve also come to present you with this,” Hermione said, handing him an ivory and cream-colored envelope, with drawn-up lace embellishments upon the sides and in the corners.

“Thanks,” Harry replied, taking ahold of it and opening it carefully.

It was an invitation, written in black cursive, which read, _You are cordially invited to attend the wedding of Miss Hermione Jean Granger and Mr. Ronald Bilius Weasley, to be held on the fifth of May 1998, at the home of Mr. Arthur Weasley and Mrs. Molly Weasley, the Burrow, located in Ottery St. Catchpole, Devon, England. Reception to follow_.

“You _did_ say you’d come, mate,” Ron said, as Harry raised his eyes to his best friend. “And, if I remember correctly, you _also_ said you’d be Best Man.”

Harry sighed, lowering the invitation. “Thanks, Ron,” he said.

“Harry?” Hermione asked.

Harry hunched his shoulders. “It’s just... I suppose I’m surprised at how much the Wizarding World has moved on without me,” he said quietly.

“It hasn’t gone on fully, not really,” Hermione told him. “I’ve barely been sleeping nights, what with recent private developments between us, not to mention that our best friend up and went missing after defeating Voldemort—”

“We’ve spent every spare minute we have worrying about and looking for you, mate,” Ron said quickly, which successfully managed to bring Hermione back down to earth. “We’ve spent all these meetings with Kingsley, begging him to reveal where you’ve been.”

Harry mulled that over for a moment. “Just you two?”

“No, of course not!” Hermione burst out. “Not just us—you wouldn’t believe the tight-knit group we’ve managed to accumulate, Harry. It’s me and Ron, of course, plus Ginny and Dean, Luna and Rolf, and Neville and Draco. You mean a lot to us, Harry, and we just wanted to make sure that you were all right.”

Harry sighed. “I appreciate all that, I do,” he said quietly. “But what you’ve got to understand is me wanting to be alone had nothing to do with you, and everything to do with me. A lot has happened these past few weeks, and... It’s rather difficult to explain.”

Ron gazed at his closest friend before finally shaking his head. “Would you mind repeating that, Harry, or, at least, explaining it a bit better?”

Hermione nodded, worrying her bottom lip. “Please, Harry. We’re your best friends. All we want to do is try and understand the situation, and help you, if we can.”

Harry’s shoulders slumped slightly then as he leaned back against the couch. “You can’t really help the situation, Hermione,” he said quietly, and kept right on talking, as he knew her well enough to know she would interrupt him with a flurry of potential solutions. “But, perhaps, if I told you, and showed you, what’s been going on with me, you would understand my need to be alone, now more than ever.”

“Show and tell us, then, mate,” Ron said quietly, which caused Harry to look up again. “It’s all right, and no matter what it is, we’re here for you.”

Harry swallowed then, keeping the afghan around him as he levitated his tea cup and got to his feet, before he dropped the afghan and straightened his shirt, which was just beginning to stretch over his stomach, now that he was four months gone. He slowly raised his eyes to Ron and Hermione then, and they both looked shocked. “So, yeah, there’s that,” he said, quickly returning to his spot on the couch and gathering the afghan back around him, and took his teacup back into his hands.

“Is it...?” Hermione asked, her tone tentative.

“Yeah, of course it’s Severus’s,” Harry said, his tone slightly defensive. “I love him. I want to marry him, but...”

“But? What is it, mate?” Ron asked.

“We never discussed children,” Harry replied, quieter this time. “I mean, we discussed being together for the rest of our lives, and I _did_ mention that I wanted him to, you know,” he said, and flushed at the declaration, prompting Ron to look away immediately and Hermione to instantly squeal with delight. “But maybe... Maybe once he finds out I left him, bleeding out, in the headmaster’s office, and looked at his memories—again—without permission... There’s no way in hell he’d forgive me a second time,” Harry said, feeling the fat tears well into before they escaped his eyes. “I mean, forgiving a sniveling and disrespectful fifteen-year-old who had no idea what he was doing? Perhaps that could be done.. Forgive a seventeen-year-old man who claims to love you, more than life itself or anyone else in the world, before leaving you to die while he goes out to save the goddamned Wizarding World? No chance.”

“You can’t know that, Harry,” Hermione said quietly.

“Yeah?” Harry asked, wiping his tears. “You in contact with him?”

“He’s still in the hospital wing at Hogwarts, mate,” Ron said, and Harry’s eyes snapped to his in a moment of shock. “Madam Pomfrey said Snape had a lot of underlying issues—including his weight—that could take months to repair.”

Harry blinked, shocked. “What aren’t you telling me?” he asked, looking in between the two of them at the thought of his lover’s health in danger.

“Apparently, Voldemort’s dagger was laced with something that Madam Pomfrey is still unable to identify,” Hermione said softly. “She’s been trying everything, and wants to send him to St. Mungo’s, but on Snape’s salary, he’d never be able to afford it.”

Harry’s eyes popped out of his head. “Well, isn’t he awake?!” he cried out, looking from one of them to the other. “Maybe it’s a potion of some kind...”

“That’s what Madam Pomfrey thinks, mate,” Ron said, nodding. “The problem is, she’s keeping him in a coma to remedy the other issues, so he hasn’t been brought out of it to identify the cuts on his throat yet.”

“This is ridiculous,” Harry cried out then, pulling his wand out from beneath the afghan then and remembered his first time with Severus in Sherwood Forest. “ _Expecto Patronum_!” he cried out then, and his stag appeared. “Go to Madam Pomfrey at Hogwarts with this message,” he ordered the animal. “This is Harry Potter. Please see to it that Headmaster Snape is taken directly to St. Mungo’s for treatment. As for the payment, instruct the employees there to draw it out from the Potter family vault at Gringotts. Please have them inform me directly if there is any update to his condition.” Harry nodded to the stag then, who bowed to him, and then flitted off through the window and into the streets of London.

“You sure that’s a good idea, mate?” Ron asked.

“After all, this _is_ Snape we’re talking about,” Hermione said softly.

Harry sighed, gripping his wand in his hand. “I’m afraid that don’t really know what ideas are good or not any longer,” he said quietly. “All I know is, I’m in love with Severus Snape, and I won’t permit those I love to suffer.”

. . .

Harry was thankful that Draco had informed him of the spells he’d used to conceal his pregnancy when keeping it and his relationship with Neville under wraps. Harry casted the spell perfectly, and was able to fit into the beautiful dress robes he’d bought to serve as Best Man at Ron and Hermione’s wedding at the Burrow. He straightened the red silk tie within his white button-down shirt, and all he could think about was Severus, when he should have been at least attempting to memorize his Best Man’s speech, which he’d spent the last seventy-two hours writing and revising for the wedding party.

As he mumbled the words under his breath for what must’ve been the thousandth time, a quiet knock on the door behind him scattered his thoughts. He charmed the tie into place and turned around, making a grab for his suit jacket as he did. “Yeah?” he called out.

The doorknob turned and Ginny stood on the threshold, her green silk gown looking brilliant on her as she smiled at him. “There you are,” she said gently, stepping into the room and assisting him with his jacket. She laughed indulgently then, and helped him with his tie. “Never were very good at these, were you?”

Harry smirked and rolled his eyes. “Apparently not.”

Ginny smiled up at him, brushing the dust from his shoulders and nodding in approval. “The Groomsmen and Bridesmaids are just about to walk out,” she said softly. “Which means it’s almost time for the Best Man and Maid of Honor to take their places at the entrance before Hermione walks out with Mr. Granger.”

Harry nodded, giving himself a final once-over in the mirror before he moved towards the door, arm-in-arm with Ginny. “And... Dean’s not pissed that I’m walking out with you, is he?” he asked, knowing that, as nice a bloke as Dean was, he seemed pretty upset when Harry and Ginny had kissed in the Gryffindor common room the year before after the Quidditch match. “He won’t break another goblet, will he?”

Ginny laughed and shook her head as they walked down the spiraled staircase. “No, of course he won’t, Harry,” she said with a smile. “I...” She looked around then, and whispered, “When I was in the hospital wing, I only let Hermione come to see me,” she explained. “In the bed next to me was Snape and... Hermione told me,” she whispered, and Harry’s eyes immediately snapped to hers in worry. “Don’t worry, I won’t say anything,” she said quickly, before she kissed him on the cheek. “If I’m honest, I was relieved.”

Harry blinked. “Relieved?”

Ginny nodded earnestly. “Yes, relieved,” she told him. “I mean, I just never knew if it was something I did wrong, in our relationship, but you never seemed as into snogging—or anything else we did—as I was. And then it hit me, once Hermione told me about you and him,” she said, carefully leaving Severus’s name out of it in case someone was listening, “that I couldn’t be happier for you. I’m with Dean, and things are wonderful. And, once he wakes up and you two can talk, I think you’ll be better than ever.”

“Thanks, Gin,” Harry replied, and she squeezed his arm. “Wait a moment,” he said, pulling her back to his side, and she looked innocently up at him. “What in Merlin’s name were you doing in the hospital wing, anyway? Are you all right?”

She sighed, her milk-white shoulders slacking ever so slightly then. “I am now,” she replied, her brown eyes filling with sadness. “The short version is that the Carrows caught me trying to contact you, which I did to make sure you were all right,” she said quickly. “After I tried to do so, I was hit upon the head and they took me down to the dungeons.”

“What happened?” Harry asked, his tone clipped.

“They tortured me,” she said softly. “They used _Crucio_ , and immobilized me so that I couldn’t cry out for help or to beg them to stop. But, it even surprised Hermione when I told her that I saved myself.”

Harry blinked. “Saved yourself?”

Ginny nodded. “Yes. I was able to use my inner magic to break free of the bonds placed upon me, and I killed them, but not before they killed a part of me, too...”

Harry shook his head. “A part of you? Your innocence from killing, you mean?”

Ginny sighed. “Somewhat, I suppose. But it was far worse than what they took from me that night... A child,” she said.

Harry shook his head. “A child?”

“Dean’s and mine,” Ginny said softly, forcing herself not to cry as she plastered a half-hearted smile onto her lips. “I wasn’t due to have the child until this summer, and Dean and I... Well, you know we’re going to be married,” she said, and Harry nodded at her. “It was unplanned, the pregnancy, but Dean and I were so happy about it. And then when it all came crashing down, with what the Carrows did to me, I was afraid that he wouldn’t want me anymore and that it all would be for nothing...”

Harry stepped forward then and pulled Ginny into his arms. “Dean’s not that kind of person. He loves you, Ginny, I’ve seen it.”

“And you love Severus,” Ginny whispered, her voice slightly muffled against his chest. “I am so pleased that we each found our loves, Harry.”

Harry nodded. “Me, too,” he replied.

They continued walking out towards the tent, which had been conjured to stand upon the Burrow’s land, and had been changed to gold and red, Gryffindor’s colors. Stepping inside the tent and walking down the aisle, Harry spotted the Groomsmen, Dean, Seamus, Neville, Draco, Rolf, Bill, Charlie, Fred, and George, as well as the Bridesmaids, Luna, Angelina Johnson, Parvati and Padma Patil, Katie Bell, Hannah Abbott, Fleur Delacour, and finally her little sister, Gabrielle. Harry and Ginny quickly moved to their places at the heads of the lads and ladies respectively, and Ron stepped into the front of the tent then, clasping each of his Groomsmen’s hands before embracing Harry, and turned towards the tents’ entrance.

An old wizarding song was played by the band, which had been hired for the day, as Hermione stepped through the tents’ flap upon her father’s arm. Hermione was beaming, and Mr. Granger looked very proud to be sharing in this moment with his daughter and only child. Hermione was wearing a trumpet-style wedding dress, all in white organza, with thin straps, and a lovely skirt that thankfully managed not to trip her as she came up the aisle with her father. Mr. Granger promptly kissed his daughter on the cheek when the time came before going to sit beside Mrs. Granger in the front row on the bride’s side, and Hermione and Ron joined hands and turned to face the wizard justice of the peace.

“Dear witches, wizards, and Muggles alike,” the justice of the peace began, “we are gathered here today in beautiful Devon, to join together Hermione Jean Granger and Ronald Bilius Weasley, in matrimony. Through their school years, these two were constant companions, and the best of friends, and now, they take their first steps to coming together as husband and wife and bonded partners. It is with great courage, nerve, chivalry, and daring, that brought these two together, and it is those things, and so much more, which will keep them together. For marriage not only needs those things, but also loyalty, honesty, respect, admiration, consideration, and love—always love. For it is with great love that Ron and Hermione are joined together today by all of you, who stand to support them when they decide to join their families as one.” The man turned to Ron then, allowing his words to sink in for a moment, before he continued, “Ron, do you take Hermione to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, to love and to cherish, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”

Ron nodded, grinning at Hermione. “I do.”

“And do you, Hermione,” the justice of the peace went on, turning to her, “take Ron to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, to love and to cherish, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”

Hermione smiled then, as tears lay suspended in her lashes. “I do,” she replied.

“May I have the rings, please?” the man asked.

Hermione handed her bouquet to Ginny, while Harry handed the rings to Ron.

“With this ring, I promise to be faithful to you alone,” Ron said, and slipped the ring onto the third finger of Hermione’s left hand.

“With this ring, I promise to be faithful to you alone,” Hermione said, and too slipped the ring onto the third finger of Ron’s hand.

“In saying these vows, you have promised to live together as husband and wife for as long as you both shall live. I bless you both,” said the justice, smiling at them. “May I now present to you, for the very first time, Mr. Ron and Mrs. Hermione Weasley?”

. . .

Harry said goodbye to Ron and Hermione, and promised them that he would try and take better care of himself whilst they were in the South of France for their honeymoon. He decided it best to set Grimmauld Place to rights and, with Kreacher’s help, managed to turn the old and musty-smelling rooms into open spaces, which were then full of new possibilities. He spent the next four days in this fashion, going over plans with his house-elf, constantly listening to the old soul’s new ideas, and found that Kreacher himself was very excited about Harry’s pregnancy, and the heir for the House of Black and Potter, which touched him.

It was on the fourth day that Harry, after working for a few hours in the morning, took a shower and decided to take the afternoon off, received an unexpected visitor. It was a mouse Patronus, likely the smallest he’d ever seen, and he watched the little thing scurry about, just as he was about to tuck into a sandwich lunch. “Speak,” he said to his visitor.

“If you would pardon me, please, Mr. Potter,” came the sound of a kind woman’s voice from the small rodent, “but Headmaster Severus Snape has awoken at St. Mungo’s.”

Harry’s eyes widened then as he nodded. “Thank you,” he said, and the mouth let out a little squeak before it disappeared. Harry told Kreacher where he was going, and stepped into a pair of shoes and socks before summoning a sweater that hid him well, and advanced upon the fireplace in the parlor. “St. Mungo’s Wizarding Hospital,” he bellowed, throwing in the powder and stepping into the green flames.

Harry found himself in the main lobby of the hospital and, for a moment, at least, was a bit overwhelmed by the hustle and bustle around him. He was reminded of his first time in Diagon Alley with Hagrid, all those years ago, and wondered how he would find his way around. At least, back then, he had a half-giant to guide him; now, he was all alone, so he summoned all of his Gryffindor courage and marched up to the front desk.

“Excuse me,” he said.

The receptionist looked up then and nearly fell out of her chair when she saw who was speaking to her, and flushed pink. “Mr. Potter!” she said, swallowing. “Headmaster Snape is on the third floor. You’ll be directed further once there.”

“Thank you,” Harry said. He Apparated quickly to the third floor, coming across another desk, and the second woman told him that he would find Headmaster Snape in room 307. Harry nodded then and walked down the hallway, his heartbeat entering his throat then as he walked up to the door, and hesitantly unlocked it. “Severus?”

The raven-haired man sat in the bed before him, eyes closed, but Harry could tell from his breathing that he was either lightly dozing or resting his eyes. He stiffened when he came closer, those obsidian eyes of his snapping open, and that familiar sneer entered his expression, which caused Harry to draw back. “Oh. It’s you.”

Harry swallowed then and kept his distance; two years ago, he would’ve been surprised at this response, given that there was less malice in his voice than he’d been used to as a young teenager at Hogwarts. Now, it was beyond surprising, considering all that they had been through together in the last several months. Perhaps he had forgotten?

“Severus, it’s me,” Harry said softly, hoping to reach him.

“Yes, I know who you are,” Severus replied, his tone annoyed. “The Chosen One, the Boy who Lived—the boy who loves to interfere.”

Harry shook his head. “Sorry?”

“I was fully prepared to die, you know,” he said, his tone bitter. “My throat was cut beyond repair, slashed practically to ribbons, but someone had to meddle and fix it. I was crying in what I assumed to be the hour of my death, but someone saw fit to take my memories from me. I should’ve been rotting in the hospital wing at Hogwarts but—oh, no—someone heard about it and moved me to St. Mungo’s and paid the entirety of my bill for me.”

“Are you quite finished?!” Harry burst out then, tired of this old act of Severus’s—back when he had served Voldemort, it was necessary, but now. “Don’t you remember anything, Severus?! I asked you something very important before I left—”

“That’s just it, isn’t it?” Severus snapped, not allowing Harry to continue. “You _left_. You left me there to die, Harry.”

“I tended to your wounds to ensure you wouldn’t die!” Harry shot back. “Then I summoned Madam Pomfrey so that she could fix what I could not!”

“You _pilfered_ my memories,” Severus spat, glaring at him with menace. “Are you going to apologize for that, boy?!”

Harry felt as if cold air was blasting his body then. He shivered from it, and his eyes snapped closed then as he trembled. He didn’t want to go back to that memory for as long as he lived, but he was driven to it because...

_“Boy!” came the scream, and Harry was immediately back at Number Four, Privet Drive, after all this time. “I know you’re going back to that freaky little school of yours, and then you likely won’t see us again...”_

_“Yes, Uncle Vernon,” Harry replied._

_Vernon Dursley’s eyes flared at the notion that his nephew had spoken without permission, and he immediately thwacked him across the face, sending him to the floor. “Almost,” he muttered then, hauling him up slightly so that he could turn him over onto his stomach._

_No, no, no..._

_“Come on,” he grunted, positioning his nephew the way he liked. “You’ve got to reward me for us putting up with you all these years—”_

_“Don’t!” Harry shouted then, struggling for the first time against those meaty hands of his. “I don’t want this! Don’t touch me! I’m_ not _yours!”_

_“You’re bloody well mine until I tell you otherwise!” Vernon growled at Harry. “After all these years we fed you, clothed you, gave you Dudley’s second bedroom,” he went on, grabbing ahold of Harry’s belt and yanking it off him, before tearing off his jeans and boxers, “and what do we have to show for it? Absolutely nothing!” he hissed, pulling down his own trousers and underwear before positioning himself at Harry’s entrance. “Don’t struggle, boy!” he hissed in his ear as he forced his way in, causing Harry to cry out before Vernon covered his mouth with that massive hand of his. “You know it’ll be worse for you if you do!”_

“POTTER!”

Harry’s eyes snapped open at the sound of Severus addressing him by his first name, which he had not done when they were alone since his sixth-year. Harry felt a lump forming in his throat then as he stared at him, doing his best not to sob. “You truly don’t remember anything that transpired between us?” he whispered brokenly.

Severus rolled his eyes. “You are a teenager, prone to flights of fancy, and when my warm bed presented itself, you hopped in,” he sneered. “It obviously meant nothing to you.”

Harry shook his head. “That’s not true! I love—!”

“You are a boy!” Severus thundered, and Harry’s words died away from the impact of his lover’s booming voice. “You know nothing of the world, let alone of love! You bring death and devastation to all, Potter. You may have killed Voldemort, but that was your purpose in life, you destiny. Now that that is done...” He spread his hands. “There is nothing else.”

“Severus, please,” Harry begged, stepping closer. “Please, just listen. Just let me say one thing more and, after that, if you want me to go, I will. Just allow me to say one thing, and then I’ll walk out of your life forever, if you wish it—”

“I wish it _now_!” Severus screamed then, glaring at Harry. “Get the fuck out of my hospital room and never come back! I never want to see you again if it is not absolutely necessary! Get out now, I say, you useless boy!”

Harry stumbled backwards at the hate-filled words, not knowing what else to do. It was in that moment that the child within him—their child—began kicking profusely, almost begging to be made known to its other father. However, unknowing if Harry would ever find that Severus again, he found himself turning his back on him, determined to protect his child at all costs. It broke him that Severus had said he had no purpose, and as he Apparated out of there, he knew just how wrong that statement was.

. . .

Two days later, Harry couldn’t stand continuing to lock himself in Grimmauld Place any longer, so he ventured out to the Burrow. Knowing that Ron and Hermione wouldn’t be there saddened him greatly, but he was happy for them that they could get away from England for a while. He made his way inside, nevertheless, knowing that Arthur would likely be at work, while Molly was at Shell Cottage with Bill and Fleur at this time on Mondays.

“Harry?”

He looked up at the sound of Ginny’s voice, and he felt his entire world cave in. He felt the tears come that wouldn’t two days before, and he felt comforted as Ginny rushed forward and pulled him into her arms. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he blubbered as she gently pulled him towards the couch and sat down with him, yet never took her arms off from around him, as she gently whispered soothing words in his ear. “I wish I could’ve loved you, I really do. Things would’ve been so much easier if I just could’ve...”

“Perhaps,” she whispered. “But I know you love Snape—”

This only made Harry sob louder, which made Ginny wonder if she had said the wrong thing. “I cannot love him!” Harry moaned.

“I heard he was awake,” she said softly. “Did something happen?”

“Everything!” Harry cried out, pulling back from her and putting his face in his hands. “I paid for his stay at St. Mungo’s, and he wasn’t too pleased.”

Ginny sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“That isn’t all,” Harry whispered, and Ginny waited for him to continue. “When Voldemort slashed his throat, I used his spell so that he wouldn’t die,” he went on, and Ginny raised her eyebrows, but said nothing, anticipating Harry might want to speak further. “Then, he cried, so I gathered his tears and watched his memories...”

Ginny sighed. “Oh, Harry,” she said quietly, “that is the second time you did so. Perhaps if Snape had given you permission...”

“I know, I know, but there was no time for all that,” Harry blubbered, shaking his head at how stupid he felt. “However, I was able to take the knowledge from his memories I took, only to discover that...”

“Discover what?” Ginny asked.

“I was a Horcrux,” he said, and Ginny gasped, covering her mouth. “I was the final Horcrux, one that Voldemort never meant to create.”

“Oh, Harry,” Ginny whispered.

“He was also best friends with my mother,” Harry went on, and Ginny raised her eyebrows at the sudden and unexpected declaration. “It wasn’t something I expected at all... But Dumbledore, when he found out that Severus cared for me, believed that it had to do with Severus’s love for my mother...”

“It wasn’t?”

Harry shook his head. “No. Severus told Dumbledore that it was me—all me. I suppose he felt compelled to protect me, at first, because of their friendship. But, during sixth-year when everything changed, I think, his reasons turned into a new kind of love...”

“For you?”

Harry sighed. “I thought so,” he replied. “But the way he sent me out of his hospital room like that, without listening to me...” His voice broke. “I never even got to tell him that I loved him, and he wouldn’t listen when I wanted to tell him...”

Ginny sat closer then, placing a light hand on Harry’s arm. When he didn’t speak for a while, she said quietly, “I remember sitting here with you over Christmas.”

Harry nodded. “I remember.”

“It was just after Severus kissed you.”

He sighed. “Yes.”

“And yet, we began our relationship in April,” Ginny said quietly, and Harry slowly raised his eyes to hers. “Why would you...?”

He shook his head. “At first, I didn’t know why,” he said quietly. “I suppose it had to do with the fact that I didn’t know anyone like me, and I was ashamed...”

“You shouldn’t have been,” Ginny replied. “I would’ve been there for you, and would’ve understood it. We all would have.”

Harry sighed, putting his face back into his hands. “With me training to hunt down Horcruxes to beat Voldemort, I suppose I saw you as a distraction, and I’m sorry for that,” he admitted. “I saw me being gay as yet another obstacle to overcome, and I couldn’t handle another one. However, dragging you into my drama was really unfair, inconsiderate, and selfish. I don’t expect your forgiveness, Ginny, but know that I do apologize for it.”

“There’s nothing to forgive, Harry,” Ginny said quietly, and smiled at him. “I was having problems with Dean before that because he couldn’t get it into his thick head that I was with him for a reason. The reason was I was in love with him, and was the entire time. I think, once we broke up, everyone expected the two of us to happen, and when we did, things just fell into place naturally. I served as a decent enough distraction when you needed me, and, once we realized that we couldn’t be together, you realized you wanted Snape, and I wanted Dean.”

“I just wish it was easier,” Harry moaned. “The fact that the two of us were in such a good place, only for it to go to hell when I decided to save his life, view his memories, and pay his hospital bills on his behalf...”

“You love him,” Ginny said simply.

Harry sighed, getting to his feet and pulling off his sweater, and Ginny gasped at his fuller frame as he sank back down onto the couch. “Now I could spout some bullshit like this is the fruit of our love, and, before two days ago, it was...”

“Harry, when did you...?”

“January,” he replied. “He found us hiding out in Sherwood Forest. It happened our first time together... I suppose it was because I wished for it, but I never assumed...”

“So, this is what you wanted to tell him, then?”

Harry nodded. “Yes.”

Harry declined Ginny’s invitation to stay for lunch or tea, and instead used the Burrow’s Floo Network to return to Grimmauld Place. Ginny watched him go, before she made her way over to the fireplace, thinking to herself. “Connect me to Longbottom Lodge, Norfolk,” Ginny ordered the flames in a hushed tone.

. . .

“Kreacher!” Harry called, and the house-elf popped into view as soon as he arrived.

“Yes, Master Harry?” Kreacher said, bowing.

“Please go into Diagon Alley and procure for me an owl,” he said, adding a generous amount of Galleons to Kreacher’s little pouch, which he carried about his waist. “And spare no expense at the menagerie, and listen to the employees about reliability.”

“Yes, Master Harry,” Kreacher said, and snapped his fingers, and then he was gone.

Harry walked upstairs to his bedroom, passing the portrait who merely glared at him now, and let himself inside. He approached the desk next to the fireplace, finding his parchment, ink, and quills waiting for him, and proceeded to write. It didn’t take him very long to write the letter, and he knew that it was high time that this got done.

 

_Dear Professor McGonagall,_

 

_I hope this letter finds you well. You know as well as I do that I was never one for pleasantries, and I know that running off like that to face Tom Riddle on my own was, as you would put it, impulsive to say the least. However, since you now know what I do, perhaps you are able to understand, if not trust, my judgment call on the matter._

_As for the purpose of my writing this, enclosed with my owl you will find a vial. This vial will hold my tears, and thus, my memories. As he has refused to see me, I am entrusting this vial to you, to be delivered to Severus Snape at your earliest convenience. If you could, please refrain as long as you can in informing him whose memories they are, for I fear he will not view them if he knows the truth. Deception and cunning are not Gryffindor traits, which you and I know full well, but I am running out of ideas._

_You should also know as I trust you as I would with my own life—for you were as much a mother to me during my school years as anyone could have been, (and I mean no flattery by this, it is just a simple face)—that Severus Snape and I were lovers. I am unsure if this will continue, now that he has made it clear he will not see me or stay in contact with me, but I would appreciate it if you told no one. Only a select few Weasley’s know, and now that she is married into the family, Hermione counts in that bunch. I trust you will say nothing about it, for I am still unsure how he, and the rest of the Wizarding World, would react._

_Please know this—I love him. We intended—at least,_ I _intended—to spend the rest of my life with him once I killed Tom Riddle. But, like most of my life thus far, it seems that nothing directly involved with me can be seen or done in a simple manner. I am afraid that I have lost him, and I cannot do such a thing. The reasons, other than my love, are sensitive, and I wish to keep them close to me, for now, although I am sure you will know of the true reason when the opportunity formally presents itself._

_Yours faithfully,_

_Harry Potter_

 

There was a pop from behind him then and, upon turning around, Harry regarded Kreacher who carried a medium-sized cage in his hand, which Harry gratefully took from him. “Thank you, Kreacher,” Harry said, and Kreacher bowed before departing. Harry inspected the small owl from outside the case, before he cautiously opened the door and offered his arm to it.

Cautiously, the Northern saw-whet owl stepped from the cage and onto Harry’s arm, staring up at him with wide yellow eyes. It shut its eyes and lowered its head slightly as Harry smoothed the feathers upon its head, and let out a small hooting sound.

“You’re a sweet one,” Harry said softly, offering the bird a bit of owl tidbit, which Kreacher had considerately returned with a bag of. “Think I’ll call you Dulcis,” he said softly to himself, and the little owl seemed to hoot happily in response. Harry summoned a vial from inside the top drawer of his desk—which still housed the letter from Severus—while Dulcis, whom he had placed on her new conjured perch upon the top of his desk, watched his movements intently and with apparent fascination. Harry thought again of the night that Voldemort had slashed Severus’s throat and nearly killed him, and the tears formed easily, which he put into the vial he now held in his hands and stoppered it quickly. Wrapping up the letter, with the vial now inside, he tied it gently to Dulcis’s claw before he opened the window. “Please take this to Professor McGonagall at Hogwarts, in the Scottish Highlands,” he said.

Dulcis screeched in understanding to her new master, before flapping her wings and moving gracefully out the window, her wings catching the late spring sunlight in between her delicate and smooth feathers. Harry got to his feet then, his heart in his throat at the sight of his new friend, flying out into the distance, the sun on her back, hoping her journey was an easier one than the one he’d been forced to contend with for his entire life. As he stared, watching as she flew out of sight, Harry placed one hand upon his belly, while the other moved automatically to shut the window, and lowered his eyes to his other hand, the very purpose of his life flipping around within him, and giving him more comfort than he had felt in a great while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was very difficult to write - I was crying at the reunion moment based upon what Harry's inner battle was. I myself suffer from PTSD for a variety of reasons, and I too have suffered from flashbacks like this. Let us all remain sensitive to the notion that people deal with this in different ways, and this is merely my interpretation of this sensitive subject.
> 
> Also, remember that Ron and Hermione informed Harry that Madam Pomfrey couldn't identify what Voldemort's dagger was laced with when it cut Severus's throat. I know what it is, but you'll have to wait a bit longer to find out! Yes, I know I am evil, but I hope you will forgive me for it, as this story is so close to wrapping up. Love you all!


	11. So Far Beyond My Reach

Ginny stepped through the flames and into Longbottom Lodge, located about five hours away from the Burrow in Devon. She had sent along her Patronus to Luna, with instructions to gather up Rolf and Dean, and to meet her at the lovely estate where Draco and Neville now resided. It was a rare day off from Hogwarts that balmy Monday in late-May, and with Draco so far along in his pregnancy, he was encouraged not to do more than absolutely necessary. Ginny found Draco and Neville in the beautiful, open sitting room of Longbottom Lodge, and traipsed into the room, and they mutually looked up at her with pleasant expressions, Draco’s swollen feet and ankles being tended to by Neville’s considerate fingers.

“This is a nice surprise,” Neville said.

“You all right?” Draco asked.

Ginny sighed, moving to the finely upholstered chair beside the couch where Draco and Neville sat and moved to sit as well. “It’s not me, today at least,” she said with a small sigh. “By the way, I’ve sent my Patronus to Luna, and she, Dean, and Rolf are on the way.”

“What’s going on?” Draco wanted to know, his expression concerned.

Ginny worried her lip. “Look, it’s a situation of helping a friend, even though this may not be my information to tell. But we’re all friends with this person, and I know that bouncing some ideas off of one another isn’t necessarily a bad thing...”

“Is it Harry?” Neville asked.

Ginny nodded. “Yeah, it’s Harry.”

No sooner had Ginny spoken those words than did Dean, Luna, and Rolf come into the sitting room from the main fireplace in the front room of the house. Dean moved so that he was sitting on the arm of Ginny’s chair, while Luna and Rolf chose to occupy a loveseat opposite them. It took a moment of silence—which included customary greetings, with Dean kissing Ginny’s temple good-naturedly—before Ginny spoke again.

“I’ve called us together because something is going on with Harry,” she said softly. “He came to see me earlier this afternoon, and, in fact, just left the Burrow a few moments ago,” she said, all in one breath. “He was devastated.”

“Devastated?” Luna asked. “Why, I wonder?”

Ginny swallowed then, knowing that she could trust her friends. “Harry is gay,” she said quietly, and they all looked around at one another for a moment, while Ginny allowed that very true fact to sink in. “And his lover wants nothing to do with him, or their child.”

“Their child?!” Draco cried out. “Harry’s pregnant, too?!”

Ginny nodded. “Yes. He’s only about four and a half months along now, but he’s very clearly pregnant and feeling desolate.”

“No wonder,” Dean put in. “Do Ron and Hermione know?”

Ginny sighed. “I assume so, yes,” she replied. “The thing of it is... Well, the other father of the child, as it were... He and Harry must have been in love at one point. At least, Harry is still very much in love with him, but his lover...”

“Who is it?” Rolf asked, speaking up for the first time. “Harry’s lover?”

“It’s Snape,” Ginny said softly.

“Snape?!” Draco demanded, looking shocked, but not angry. “Well. No wonder.”

“What do you mean?” Neville asked.

Draco sighed. “Father was the first one to see him when he woke up at St. Mungo’s. He was visiting someone there—didn’t tell me who—and was walking by Snape’s room when he first woke up. Snape was all disoriented and wanted to know how he’d gotten there; of course, Father didn’t know that information, but did his best to calm him down. Father was over here earlier, to check in,” Draco went on, smoothing his hands over his stomach, “and it seems that Snape didn’t appear to be...well, normal.”

“Since when has Snape ever been normal?” Dean asked.

Draco nodded at that. “Good point,” he replied. “Anyhow, he said that Snape had gained a considerable amount of weight, which is truly beneficial, but that the cut marks upon his neck, where Voldemort cut him, were still there. He heard that they were likely to remain permanent, and that no magic would be able to remedy them, due to whatever was in the dagger at the time of the cutting itself.”

Ginny sighed. “Harry told me that, when he went to go see Snape, that it was as if Snape didn’t know him, and that their past moments together hadn’t existed...” She cut herself off then, and suddenly found herself straightening up. “Wait...” The word blew through her mouth then, as her mind worked a mile a minute. “What if it is that simple?”

“What is it, Ginny?” Dean asked, putting an arm around her shoulders.

“What if there was some kind of dark magic... Well, clearly there was,” she said, and leapt to her feet, pacing around the room. “I mean, it had to have been dark, right? This is Lord Voldemort we’re talking about.” She stopped walking then. “When he possessed me to open the Chamber of Secrets, I felt as if it was me looking down, watching myself play out the fantasy, while I myself was never in control of the movements my body made...”

“Because of the possession?” Neville asked.

Ginny nodded. “Exactly. So, what if Voldemort put something into the blade itself?” she whispered, shaking her head in an effort to clear it. “A serum. A serum that would give the ultimate punishment to anyone who disobeyed him...”

“But, surely Voldemort meant to kill Snape, right?” Luna asked.

“Well, yes, of course,” Ginny said quickly. “But, what if on the slight chance that the intended victim managed to live... Voldemort needed to make sure that there was another punishment, something befitting, of course, which came directly from within the blade itself.”

“What is it you’re thinking?” Draco asked.

“Perhaps forgetting the one person that loved them the most in the world, or who they loved the most,” Ginny said, throwing up her hands in the air. “It’s a long-shot, but it might be true.” She sighed then, and moved back into the chair. “Of course, it wouldn’t be so simple to remedy with something so commonplace as _Finite_ ,” she said, her tone bitter, “or a little more advanced like _Prior Incantato_...”

“What could it be, then?” Luna asked.

“Should we ask Hermione?” Neville wanted to know.

Ginny shook her head. “No. The last thing we need to do is interrupt the two of them on their honeymoon,” she said, biting her lips in momentary frustration. “My only guess is that Snape would have to somehow see that Harry really does love him, as much as he claims to, or Harry himself has to break the spell. The very person affected most by said spell, would therefore have to be the one to break it. That’s all I really can think of here...”

“It’s not unreasonable,” Rolf put in. “In fact, it actually makes sense. For all Voldemort was, he himself could not love—in fact, he was rumored to be unable to do so. The ultimate punishment for someone who managed to escape death by his hand, would therefore lose the one thing that Voldemort himself was incapable of.”

“Not to mention the fact that Snape went turncoat,” Draco said softly. “That’s the ultimate offense to him. Mother was very nearly flayed alive when she refused to allow me to be branded with the Dark Mark.”

Neville gently squeezed Draco’s ankles. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I know how much your mother means to you.”

“And your mother as well,” Draco whispered back. “I am so sorry that it was my aunt who was the one to do what she did. As soon as we get this project with the ministry off the ground for the civil rights of Muggles, I am going to put all my time and effort—save for the time that I am raising our child—into finding a cure for the Cruciatus Curse. What happened to Frank and Alice Longbottom is one of the biggest tragedies of our time, and hopefully, one day, we can eradicate what befell them both.”

Without hesitation, Neville launched himself forward and kissed Draco with all that he was worth, with both wizards hardly coming up for air. “God, I love you,” Neville declared. “As soon as that baby is born, will you marry me?”

Draco blinked. “What? But we’re soul-bonded...”

“I know,” Neville replied. “But I want our love to be public—I don’t want us to have to hide our union anymore. I know a marriage seems commonplace, and I understand if you don’t want to do it, but—”

“I never said that,” Draco said, grinning at Neville. “Of course I’ll marry you.”

“Hey!” Ginny said, clapping her hands, and both of them turned to look at her. “This is all very touching, but we’ve got Harry and Snape to think about now!”

Draco rolled his eyes, but nevertheless moved a respectable distance away from Neville. “Well, aside from speaking to Harry directly, or hauling Snape out of St. Mungo’s, or somehow managing to contact Ron and Hermione, what are our options?”

. . .

A week had gone by since Ginny had summoned everyone—minus Ron and Hermione—to discuss Harry’s predicament with Severus. It was on that day that Ron and Hermione had come back to England from the South of France, to set up house in London in a posh suburb. The house itself had been a gift from Mr. and Mrs. Granger for their daughter and new son-in-law, for this one was close to the Ministry of Magic, and Grimmauld Place, so that they easily connected their Floo Network to both places. Once the Floo Network was opened to Grimmauld Place, however, they were shocked to find that Harry didn’t deliberately seek them out and, of course, Hermione began fearing the worst.

“Why isn’t he speaking to us, Ron?” Hermione cried out, sitting in the parlor of their new home and caressing her barely swollen belly; it was still the early days, but late enough for Hermione to know that she was indeed pregnant with their first child. “I’m worried. He hasn’t spoken to us since we got word from Ginny that Snape woke up...”

Ron sighed, shaking his head as he put aside his copy of _The Daily Profit_. “Xenophilius really needs to tell that rag how to publish something halfway decent and truthful,” he muttered, before he turned and looked at his wife, who looked a little more than slightly exasperated at being so blatantly ignored. “Sorry, love. But I can’t rightly assume what’s going on in his head right now, ‘Mione. All I do know is that he said he wanted to be left alone before the wedding. Now, maybe a little solitude will do him some good after all these years. First he was at Dumbledore’s beck and call, and constantly running away from old snake-nose likely didn’t help matters. Then there’s the notion that his lover is still in hospital...”

“Ginny said he woke up,” Hermione said quietly, unsure if her husband had heard her. “Maybe, oh, I don’t know. Maybe something went wrong between them...”

“Or, perhaps, it went right?” Ron asked, putting an arm around her shoulders and kissing her on the cheek. “Maybe he’s been released from St. Mungo’s and now they’re just picking up where they left off.”

“If that’s the case, then why didn’t he tell us?” Hermione asked.

Ron shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe they wanted some time alone?”

Hermione let out an annoyed growl and got out from underneath her husband’s elbow. “Oh, honestly, Ronald,” she grumbled, marching over to the fireplace across from their plush couch and peering into the flames. “Gryffindor common room, Hogwarts,” she called into it. “Ginny, if you’re there, please respond!” she called.

There was a plaintive sigh from the other end before Ginny’s face appeared on the other side of the flames. “Hello, Hermione. Good to see you’re back safely.”

Hermione arched her eyebrow at her sister-in-law’s demeanor; it had been twenty days since she and Ron had taken off from their honeymoon—right after their wedding—and Ginny usually was over the moon after a summer away from her. Now, of course, even less time had gone by, but the redheaded Weasley girl was strangely calm. “Gin, are you all right?” Hermione asked as Ron came up from the couch and knelt beside her.

“Hey, Gin!” Ron shouted, waving at his sister.

“Hey, Ron!” Ginny said, obviously pleased to see her brother, which set Hermione on edge, knowing that her sister-in-law was hiding something.

“Okay, cut the crap, Gin,” she said, and Ginny visibility colored, despite being partially hidden by the flames. “You know something, and you’re obviously hiding it from us, why I don’t rightly know. We’re family; families talk. Now, what’s going on?”

Ginny bit her lip, obviously fearful of the fellow witch’s reaction, but, ultimately, knew that Hermione deserved an explanation. “Harry came to see me at the Burrow during your guys’ honeymoon,” she said softly.

Ron shrugged. “Okay?” he asked, spreading his hands, obviously clueless. “You know that he’s been welcome there since we were kids, Ginny. What’s the issue with that?”

“Clearly it was his reason for going there in the first place, Ron,” snapped Hermione before turning back to Ginny, who looked worried. “Gin, please. What’s happened?”

Ginny looked around then, before whispering a Silencing Charm so as anyone around her couldn’t hear their conversation, before she leaned more deeply into the flames. “Snape has woken up at St. Mungo’s,” she whispered.

Hermione let out a squeak at that. “He’s what?!”

Ginny nodded. “Yeah. That’s why Harry came to see me,” she said quickly. “It was because their meeting didn’t go well.”

“What do you mean, ‘didn’t go well’?!” Ron demanded, his hands forming into fists as he audibly cracked his knuckles. “What did Snape do?!”

Ginny sighed. “Apparently, he didn’t seem to recall his relationship with Harry at all,” she whispered then, and Hermione sighed.

“Oh, poor, poor Harry,” she said softly.

“It gets worse,” Ginny said. “I think Harry may have had a psychotic break of some kind. I don’t know all the details, given that he was sobbing for the duration of his visit, but something about Snape calling him ‘boy’ set him off...”

“Fuck,” Ron whispered, shaking his head.

“You know what it means?” Ginny asked.

Ron nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, we know.”

Ginny swallowed. “I didn’t pry, but it was plain to see it wasn’t good,” she replied. “He also wasn’t able to tell Snape about the pregnancy.”

Hermione let out another squeak then. “Harry told you?”

Ginny nodded. “He told me, yes. He was very distraught,” she continued, “and after I comforted him, he left in a hurry. It was like he was on a mission or something.”

“When isn’t he?” Ron asked darkly.

“Right,” Ginny replied. “Anyhow, I gathered reinforcements while you two were in the South of France—Dean, Luna, Rolf, Draco, and Neville,” she said, and Hermione nodded. “I think I may have figured out why Snape acted the way he did towards Harry.”

“Let’s hear it,” Hermione said quickly.

After Ginny gave them her thoughts on what Snape could have been afflicted with, Hermione had to agree. She praised Ginny on her astuteness and informed her, if such a thing proved to be correct, that she would have to write a paper about it immediately, pending Snape’s permission, of course. Once she and Ron closed the fire-call, she turned to her husband then, letting out a soft sigh, overwhelmed at all the information.

“Ron,” she whispered.

He nodded. “Don’t tell me. You want to go and see Harry.”

Hermione sighed. “Yes.”

“All right,” he replied. He gathered some Floo Powder in his fist before taking Hermione’s hand in his. “Number Twelve Grimmauld Place,” he said into the flames, before tossing the powder in, and stepping through with Hermione.

Harry wasn’t in the living room when they arrived, but neither Ron nor Hermione were that shocked when Kreacher popped into view. The house-elf, who definitely looked healthier now that he had a master who cared for him, bowed to the both of them. He flapped his ears and his eyes sparkled in welcome, and, for the first time, Hermione didn’t feel the need to spout about S.P.E.W. for this particular house-elf.

“Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley,” Kreacher said, and bowed to them. “Master Harry is upstairs in his bedroom at the moment. Shall Kreacher inform him of your arrival?”

“That’s all right, Kreacher,” Hermione said gently. “If you don’t mind, Ron and I would like to go and see him ourselves.”

“Naturally, Mrs. Weasley,” Kreacher said, bowing again, and although it irked Hermione, she saw no need to correct him on his incorrect use of her surname. “Please, go upstairs at your leisure. Kreacher was just making lunch in the kitchen. There will be enough for three,” he said, before walking out of the room and towards the kitchen.

Hermione turned to Ron then, and felt a wave of comfort as he squeezed her hand. “Shall we go, then?” she asked, looking past him and towards the staircase.

Ron nodded, nudging her forward. “After you.”

She gave him an uneasy smile, squeezing his hand once more before dropping it and walking towards the staircase. She passed the portrait quickly, who surprisingly didn’t bark at her for daring to be a Muggleborn witch in the House of Black, and kept right on going towards the door with the letters S.O.B. upon its front, and again felt slightly uneasy about the initials of the less-favored Black child. Knocking quickly, Hermione wasn’t surprised to hear nothing from the other end, and so, taking initiative, she reached out and turned the knob and, finding it to be unlocked, stepped inside, Ron at her heels.

“Harry?” she whispered. She looked around the room then, spotting Harry, sitting at his desk with a beautiful, yet small owl on his shoulder, and smiled slightly at the sight of it cooing and Harry gently stroking its feathers. After a moment, she watched as Harry offered the creature a bit of owl tidbit, and the bird hooted happily before accepting it. “Harry?”

Harry slowly raised his eyes then, green meeting brown, and Hermione saw just how affected her best friend was by his meeting with Snape. “Hey.”

Ron swallowed before stepping closer. “How are you, mate?” he asked, and grimaced slightly when Harry shrugged. “Talked to Ginny. She told us what happened.”

Harry slumped back into the chair, and Dulcis took the hint and flew towards her perch. “That’s Dulcis, by the way,” he said by means of introduction. “Means ‘sweet’ in Latin. I thought it suited her. Kreacher got her for me a week ago from the menagerie in Diagon Alley. She’s been a lovely companion to me.”

“She’s lovely,” Hermione said, stepping closer, and offering her hand to the bird, who cooed and flew willingly to her. She gently nipped at Hermione’s fingers before hopping onto her shoulder and nuzzling her cheek. “Dulcis definitely suits her as a name, Harry.”

“Social little thing,” Ron put in, and Dulcis turned to look at him with those wide yellow eyes of hers, and merely watched him from Hermione’s shoulder. Ron turned back to Harry then, and let out a small sigh. “Listen, Harry, we know you’re upset about this thing going on with Snape, but holing yourself up here for all eternity won’t help.”

Harry sighed. “I love him, Ron.”

Ron nodded, conjuring a chair which he pulled to sit across from Harry and, thinking about it, also conjured one for Hermione as well, who sat carefully, and Dulcis remained perched upon her shoulder. “Mate, I know,” he assured him, reaching out towards him and squeezing his knee, feeling Harry’s pain from the moment he touched him. His eyes followed towards an open paper on Harry’s desk, and nodded at it. “What’s that?”

Harry sighed. “Read it.”

Ron blinked but nevertheless picked up the piece of parchment.

 

_Harry,_

_So sorry I couldn’t get back to you sooner. What with Severus at St. Mungo’s, the task fell to me to put Hogwarts to rights in the wake of Ginny getting rid of the Carrows and you managing to kill Tom Riddle. My position of Deputy Headmistress was therefore reinstated, and I am now the Interim Headmistress—with both Severus’s and Kingsley’s blessing—in the meanwhile, until Severus can decide what to do with himself._

_I am unsure if you are aware, but a trial date has been set for Severus on June the first for his apparent misdeeds against the Wizarding World. Since you were so quick to hand over his memories with Albus as evidence—which I quickly gave over to Kingsley and the ministry—I don’t believe it will be a particularly long trial. Perhaps some house arrest, or some Galleon fee at the very least, but I don’t anticipate him getting a sentence of life in Azkaban, that so many other Death Eaters have to deal with._

_I have done as you requested and given Severus the memories of that night, but I regret to inform you that he refused to look at them. It was good thinking, on your part, to put them in a bottle that wouldn’t shatter, for I’m afraid he reacted less than positively when I first presented the vial to him. He is to remain in St. Mungo’s until the date of the trial, and, as far as I’m aware, has only cleared the Malfoy family, Kingsley, and myself to see him; I know nothing else about this, I’m afraid._

_Please try to be of good cheer, dear boy. The trial will be held at the ministry itself, and it is open to the public. I’ve been permitted to see the roster of witnesses, and you have been called to testify on June the fifteenth. I am unaware, however, of what they will ask you, but, since your personal life in regards to your relationship with Severus will be seen as irrelevant, I am unsure as to what will be asked._

_Be of good cheer. I will write you if I know more._

_Yours,_

_Minerva McGonagall,_

_Interim Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

“Harry,” Hermione whispered, for Ron had read the letter aloud, and it was only in that moment that she realized she had tears in her eyes.

“Don’t,” Harry said, his voice firm, and he turned his head away, very aware that he was close to tears himself. “Just leave it.”

“But Harry—” Ron tried.

“Ron, I said, ‘no’!” Harry shouted then, and Dulcis immediately flew from Hermione’s shoulder and onto Harry’s, cooing affectionately in his ear, likely in an effort to calm him down. “I don’t want to discuss it. Like I said before, I just want to be left alone. Please... Just please leave me alone...”

“Harry...” Hermione begged.

“Hermione,” Ron said, gently taking ahold of his wife’s arm as she made an effort to reach out to Harry. “That’s enough. Come on.”

“But, Ron...”

“No,” Ron said softly, guiding her over to the fireplace in the bedroom. “There’s naught we can do now, I’m afraid,” he said, and tossed some Floo Powder into the grate, before calling out their new address, and the pair sadly stepped into the flames.

. . .

Harry felt sick upon the first day of Severus’s trial, and the feeling refused to go away until court adjourned for good on Friday evening. He stumbled out of the courtroom, and rushed to the men’s lavatory, where he proceeded to throw up the lunch that Kreacher had packed for him of chicken curry. Shaking his head, forcing himself to remind his house-elf never to make anything too spicy, now that he was in his fifth month of pregnancy, he washed his hands and moved to leave, not wanting to run into Severus. Just as he left leaving, however, wisps of Neville’s non-corporeal Patronus appeared, and Harry was immediately all ears.

“Harry! It’s time!” came Neville’s voice. “Draco just went into labor! Everyone’s gathering at Longbottom Lodge in Norfolk, and he’s asked for you to be there!”

The gasp left Harry’s throat then, just as he proceeded to concentrate as hard as he could, shutting his eyes and Apparating upon the grounds of the Longbottom-Malfoy estate. Shaking his head and making his way towards the house, he took away the spells to conceal his own pregnancy as he approached the door and opened it. Stepping into the grand foyer and shutting the door behind him, he made his way into the living room where Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Dean, Luna, and Rolf were all gathered.

“Hey,” he said, his voice hoarse from lack of use. “Was just in London at the trial.” He crossed over to the table in between the various couches and chairs, and helped himself to a cup of tea and a biscuit, as he was always a bit weary after Apparition, especially now. “Don’t ask me about it, because I don’t want to talk about it.”

“We understand, Harry,” Luna said, from where she sat with Rolf on a two-person loveseat. “I can see you’ve grown some since the last time I’ve seen you. You look wonderful.”

Harry bit back a snippy reply, and nodded, sitting in an unoccupied chair, which seemed to comfort the constant ache in his back. “Thanks, Luna,” he replied, dipping his biscuit into his tea before biting it.

“You look tired, Harry,” Hermione said gently, and his eyes snapped to hers. “I mean no offense, I’m just concerned.”

Harry sighed, knowing full well how Hermione felt, and, finally, permitted himself to let his guard down completely. He hadn’t liked the way he’d spoken to her and Ron at Grimmauld, but did know that anytime was an opportune one to apologize for his recent behavior. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it, Hermione,” he said, his voiced soothed by the cup of tea resting in his hands. “I’m sorry. I’ve been a git, and it’s unacceptable.”

“Maybe, but it’s bloody understandable, mate,” Ron replied, and Harry turned to look at him. “I heard what happened—and we all know now—about Snape and St. Mungo’s. I’m so sorry that ‘Mione and I couldn’t be here for you.”

“Ginny was here for me, Ron, and I’m grateful for that,” he said, shooting Ginny a smile, and was rewarded with a small one back. He leaned back a bit in the chair, wincing at the pain in his spine due to the weight of the child he was carrying. “Guess it had to happen at some point, you know? Harry bloody Potter’s happy for more than five straight minutes, and then things go straight to hell...”

“Ginny may have thought of why Snape reacted the way he did when he saw you,” Dean said quietly, squeezing her shoulder.

“You?!” Harry demanded, and wasn’t surprised to see Ginny rolling her eyes. “Dammit, I’m sorry about that, Gin. It’s just that I...”

“You’re used to Hermione figuring things out like this, I know,” she said, letting out a giggle before a small sigh. “Look, it’s a long-shot, but, hear me out...”

“I don’t know, Gin,” Harry replied. “Maybe it’s just time I gave up.”

“I may be a Hufflepuff like the rest of my family, Harry, but one thing I know about Gryffindors is that they’re brave, and with bravery comes not giving up,” Rolf said, and Harry raised his eyebrows at how much Rolf was speaking in that moment. “If you claim to love Snape as much as you say, then you shouldn’t give up, at least not before listening to Ginny’s explanation about Snape’s behavior. And it’s a bloody good one, too,” he said, cracking a smile, which made Harry all the more intrigued.

“Well, all right,” he said at last, turning back to Ginny. “So, what is it, then? Why did Severus act the way he did when I visited him?”

Ginny sighed. “Well...”

It was at that moment that there was a shout from a room upstairs in Longbottom Lodge, and Neville himself emerged at the top of the grand staircase, which had three exit points—the front hall, the parlor, and the kitchen. He chose the center one, leading into the parlor, and headed straight down, a bundle with white-blond hair wrapped in his arms. Tears flowed down his cheeks as he presented the little thing, which squalled slightly in his arms, as everyone crowded around Neville to have a look.

“You’re all here!” Neville crowed then, as he looked around, for the first time, taking his eyes from the baby in his arms.

“Why wouldn’t we be here, mate?” Ron asked, clapping him on the back, and getting a good look at the baby. “Too bad—looks far too much like Draco...”

“Oh, ha-ha,” said Draco, emerging at long last from his bedroom upstairs and practically gliding down the stairs.

“Draco, should you really be up so soon?” Hermione asked.

Draco grinned. “You wouldn’t believe what a Wiggenweld Potion and a simple Cleaning Spell does for me these days,” he said, tossing it away, leaning down his head on Neville’s shoulder, as the pair of them continued to look adoringly down at this child. “I don’t suppose Neville has introduced you to our son?”

Neville grinned, while their friends immediately talked among themselves at the notion that two of their closest friends now had a child, and it was a son. “I was just getting to that, love,” he said gently, and Draco indulgently rolled his eyes. “Everyone, please allow me to introduce Scorpius Frank Longbottom-Malfoy,” he said proudly.

“Oh!” Hermione squealed, standing closer.

“Give him to Hermione,” Draco said, gently squeezing Neville’s arm.

“Of course,” Neville said, handing him over to her.

Hermione kissed his forehead, and baby Scorpius immediately settled into her arms, with Ginny standing just next to her. “He’s absolutely beautiful,” she said, looking up and smiling at them both. “Congratulations to both of you.”

“Tradition states that Scorpius will have two godfathers and one godmother,” Draco said, and Neville took his hand.

“We don’t want to offend anyone with our choices, of course, but they’ve already been made, and we’d appreciate your answers now,” Neville said.

“Thank you both,” Hermione said, gently rocking Scorpius in her arms. “I’d be delighted to be his godmother.”

“Yes,” Ron said, stepping forward and embracing the two of them. “I’m very flattered to have been asked. Of course, my answer is yes.”

“Who else did you select?” Dean asked.

“It wasn’t me,” Rolf joked, although he was distracted by gazing at Scorpius.

“It was me, actually,” Harry said quietly, speaking for the first time since Draco, Neville, and baby Scorpius had joined them. “They asked me at the wedding.”

Hermione turned to Harry with her eyebrows raised. “I wasn’t aware that you were the other contender, Harry,” she said.

Harry laughed, shrugging his shoulders. “Well, I am,” he said, noticing that Neville and Draco were staring at him, waiting for his answer. “I’d be delighted,” he said, nodding at them both. “I see it as an honor. Thank you very much. I hope to return the favor when this little one is born, of course, we’ll have to wait until she gets here,” he said, waiting for the flurry of questions that he expected to come at him with full-force.

“ _What_?!” Ginny cried out, getting a word in first.

“It’s a girl?” Hermione asked, grinning.

Harry chuckled then, turning to Draco and Neville. “I don’t mean to steal Scorpius’s thunder,” he said quickly, but they quickly put up both hands.

“Hey, we get it,” Draco said.

“It’s a pretty big deal once you find out,” Neville said with a smile.

“But it’s a girl, mate?” Ron asked, gently nudging him in the ribs.

Harry nodded, turning back to his best friend. “Yeah, it’s a girl,” he said, putting a hand on his stomach with a smile. “And, let me tell you, she is not a fan of curry,” he said. “I never was a big fan myself, but Kreacher made it, said something about eating healthy...”

“He’s right,” Hermione said, nodding her head. “It’s very important.”

“Any names yet?” Dean asked.

“Actually, one,” Harry said, biting his lip. “I was thinking Lily, for my mum. At this point, I was thinking of Lily Luna Potter...”

“Luna?” Luna asked, and Harry was surprised to see her eyes awash with tears. “You’re giving your daughter my name?”

Harry nodded. “Well, yeah. Also it’s because...”

“You’re going to make Hermione and Ginny her godmothers, of course,” Luna said, dashing the tears from her eyes. “It’s more than all right. I do understand.”

“You were going to ask me to be Lily’s godmother?” Hermione asked.

“And me?” Ginny queried.

Harry nodded again. “Of course I was going to ask you. And Ron,” he said, turning towards his best friend again, “If you’ll be godfather, I’d really...”

“Blimey! Yeah, I will!” Ron crowed, stepping towards him and yanking Harry into his arms, and Harry let out a yelp of surprise. “Sorry, sorry!” he said, immediately pulling back and helping Harry straighten his clothes. “I just... Thought I lost you a few days back, mate...”

Harry sighed. “I lost myself, Ron,” he said, nodding in gratitude when Hermione wordlessly handed Scorpius over to him, with respective nods of consent from Draco and Neville. He gazed down at Scorpius then, and when the little lad’s dark eyes opened for the first time, Harry knew he would have Neville’s eyes. “He’s really beautiful, guys,” he said, an ache entering his heart now more than ever, since his heart told him that Severus wouldn’t be there to share in it with him when Lily was born. “Good work.”

“Thank you,” Draco said softly.

“Lily will be beautiful, too, Harry,” Neville told him.

Harry cleared his throat then, before handing Scorpius over to Draco. “Yeah,” he said. “Guess I just hope that she has my looks, you know? Part of me thinks it’ll hurt too much if I end up looking into Severus’s face day and night for the rest of my life, if he refuses to be with me,” he said, hating that his voice broke at the end, but feeling relief when all his friends surrounded him, and took him into their arms.

. . .

The lump entered Harry’s throat as he sat in the gallery; he was to be the first witness in Severus’s trial to be called after lunch, and the notion that he’d eaten that leftover roast, boiled potatoes, and roasted veg without really tasting it weighed heavily on his stomach. Again, he was using a borrowed spell from Draco, not wanting Severus to find out that he was pregnant; not like this, anyway. He straightened up automatically when the judge arrived, ordering everyone to stop talking and to sit down, and then, his name was called.

“The next witness will be Harry James Potter,” called the judge.

Harry sighed, as he was alone in court that day; Draco and Neville were tending to Scorpius, as they had arranged for an earlier opportunity to take their NEWTs, as well as graduation; Ron and Hermione were hard at work at their ministry jobs; Ginny and Dean were graduating from Hogwarts that very day; and Luna and Rolf, the former had already gotten her certificate of graduation, was off on a long-awaited honeymoon with Rolf to Scandinavia. Harry somehow managed to get to his feet at long last, and did his best not to make eye contact with Severus as he stepped out of the gallery and towards the witness stand. It must’ve been some sort of cruel irony, he thought to himself, having the love of his life on trial, but not be acknowledged by him in the slightest.

He moved and sat down where he was told to do so, and straightened his formal wear. It was not the formal dress robes he’d worn to the Yule Ball, to Slughorn’s goddamned Christmas party, to Bill and Fleur’s wedding, or Ron and Hermione’s. In the Muggle world, he would’ve looked like a Victorian version of business-casual, he knew that much.

“Please state your name for the court.”

“Harry James Potter,” Harry replied.

“Tell us, Mr. Potter, where did you first meet Headmaster Snape?”

“In potions class during my first-year at Hogwarts, when I was eleven,” Harry replied, trying his best to keep his tone steady and mature, despite the circumstances, “although I first saw him during my Sorting Ceremony.”

“And what did he say to you that day, in potions class, if you remember?”

Harry’s brows knit together at that. “He said something about teaching us how to bewitch the mind as well as how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even stopper death,” he said softly. “I was then reprimanded for not paying attention, when, in fact, I was writing notes.”

“Suffice it to say, you did not have a good relationship with Headmaster Snape?”

Harry sighed, but nodded nevertheless. “No. I’m afraid in most of my Hogwarts years, our relationship was less than positive. He seemed to relish in taking points from Gryffindor House, in making me serve detentions, and otherwise seeking to have Slytherin House do better my house, and myself, in more ways than one.”

“When did your relationship suffer?”

“In my fifth-year, then-Headmaster Albus Dumbledore instructed then-Professor Snape to give me lessons in Occlumency, which was considered a nuisance to the both of us,” Harry replied. “In those lessons, he would attempt to penetrate my mind, and it was my task to resist the penetration, but it did no good, at first, given that he initially believed me capable of figuring out the dynamics of the lessons on my own, without further instruction than the mere ones he gave me at the start of them, just before Christmas. The lessons stopped when I used the spell, _Protego_ , in self-defense, and entered into his mind without permission, in what he saw as an act of revenge.”

“But it was not?”

“No!” Harry very nearly shouted then, and he could sense Severus leaning forward then, almost as if he was dying to hear the answer. “I wanted to understand...”

“Understand what?”

“I wanted to understand why and how he could hate me so much, when I was nothing more than a Gryffindor student who seemed to have a flair for fame and getting into trouble, but I never wanted any of that. Of course, given that Slytherin House was the rival house to mine, I initially believed it was for that reason, but...”

“What did you discover in his memories, Mr. Potter?”

“That my father, James Potter, as well as my late godfather, Sirius Black, my adopted godfather Remus Lupin, and the branded traitor Peter Pettigrew tortured then-Professor Snape whilst they were in school together,” Harry said, his tongue feeling like lead. “He assumed me to possess all the attributes of my father—being lazy, arrogant, and enjoying my fame. Of course, I did learn to take the easy way out, due to me saving the school every single year. But I was not arrogant, and, truth be told, I _really_ did hate my fame. I just wanted the freedom to go to school and be somewhat normal, as much as a witch or wizard can be. I never asked to be the Chosen One, or the Boy Who Lived. I just wanted to be Harry,” Harry said, and finally permitted himself to look at Severus, who looked torn.

“And what did Headmaster Snape do then?”

“He thought I was my father, in that moment, before he cancelled the lessons. I think my eyes were the tip-off for him not to go mad with rage,” Harry replied. “It was Dumbledore who forced him, after the Christmas holidays, to resume them. I managed to block Tom Riddle from our mind-link, so as he wouldn’t know I was hunting for Horcruxes when I was doing so. That way, he felt weakened, but didn’t know that it was me who was doing the weakening. Thus, I was able to attack him by surprise and kill him.”

“Was there ever a relationship between you and Headmaster Snape that was anything but a teacher-student relationship?”

Harry straightened his back then, narrowing his eyes slightly at the question. “I was told that questions about my personal life would be off the table.”

“Even though she is Interim Headmistress, Professor Minerva McGonagall has no power here, Mr. Potter, and you’ve obviously been misinformed,” said the wizard asking the questions, with a flair of authority that Harry firmly decided he hated. “Now, I’ll pose to you the question for a second time. Were you and Headmaster Snape in any kind of relationship, physical or otherwise, that went beyond that of a teacher and student?”

Harry swallowed then, hating this, but knew that he had to tell the truth. “Yes.”

Severus straightened completely in his seat then, but could say nothing.

“Explain the relationship.”

Harry lowered his eyes, feeling the lowest of the low. “It started off as physical...”

“When?”

“In my sixth-year,” he replied, “just before the Christmas holidays. Seeing his error, Headmaster Snape attempted to _Obliviate_ me, but was unsuccessful.”

“What act did he commit?”

“He kissed me,” Harry replied, “but I kissed him back, and it was in that moment that I realized that I am gay, and that I wanted him.”

“When did your relationship evolve into a sexual one?”

“Five months ago, when I was no longer a student,” Harry replied. “It was never more physical beyond kisses until I was seventeen, of age in the Wizarding World. It was in Sherwood Forest that Headmaster Snape and I were intimate for the first time.”

“And you were happy with the relationship?”

Harry nodded. “More than I’ve ever been in my life before.”

“What happened on the evening of January the third of this year?”

Harry sighed, his hands forming into fists. “Tom Riddle came to visit Headmaster Snape in the headmaster’s office at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

“And you were where at the time?”

“In the headmaster’s private quarters.”

“What were you doing?”

“I was sleeping.”

“And what happened when you awoke?”

“I was awakened by a crash, and, when I came into the main office, saw that Headmaster Snape was bleeding out on the floor. I used the Elder Wand, which I procured from the grave of Albus Dumbledore—and have since returned—to heal him, but Headmaster Snape was still unconscious from the impact of falling, and his wounds.”

“And what did you do then?”

“I noticed that Headmaster Snape was crying, so I summoned a vial and used it to gather his tears, which I thought to contain memories. I then watched the memories, finding out about Headmaster Snape’s past, and that a part of Tom Riddle lived inside of me. I used the Elder Wand to remove the Horcrux from inside of me, before I sent Patronuses to Madam Pomfrey, to assist Headmaster Snape; Professor McGonagall, to view the memories herself in an attempt to exonerate Headmaster Snape; and to my best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, as she was then, to let them know that I was leaving.”

“And you then left Hogwarts?”

Harry nodded—the court didn’t need to know that he’d proclaimed his love for the man on trial, nor that he’d proposed to him, and he wouldn’t give them the opportunity to ask. “Then I left Hogwarts,” he replied, his voice harder than stone. “I needed to complete my mission to kill Tom Riddle and save the Wizarding World.”

“You were a witness to Headmaster Snape’s murder of Headmaster Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, in your sixth-year, in June of 1997, correct?”

Harry sighed. “I was.”

“Do you believe that Headmaster Snape should be punished for that crime?”

“I do not.”

“Explain to the court why this is your viewpoint.”

“Because it is stated by Headmaster Dumbledore in Headmaster Snape’s memories that Headmaster Dumbledore requested that Headmaster Snape kill him,” Harry replied. “Draco Malfoy was the one tasked with the murder by Tom Riddle, but Headmaster Snape entered into an Unbreakable Vow with Narcissa Malfoy to help Draco Malfoy should he need it. As Headmaster Dumbledore was dying from the curse of the Gaunt ring—another Horcrux—he requested that Headmaster Snape prove his loyalty to him by killing him. It was only then that Tom Riddle would believe that Headmaster Snape was utterly loyal to him, when, in point of fact, he had been Headmaster Dumbledore’s man from the moment Tom Riddle decided to murder my parents, James and Lily Potter.”

“Was Headmaster Snape in love with your mother?”

“No,” Harry replied. “Headmaster Snape loved my mother as a man might love his sister. There was nothing romantic between the pair of them.”

“And one final question, Mr. Potter.”

Harry nodded. “Yes?”

“What are your feelings towards Headmaster Severus Snape?”

Harry swallowed again—it was a question he expected, and yet dreaded. As he sat in the witness box, literally on show for the entire Wizengamot to see, he realized, more fully than ever, how much he longed for a private life, and would do all he can to shield his daughter from the publicity he had constantly wished to stay away from since he was eleven-years-old. “I’m in love with him, sir,” he replied.

The old wizard looked slightly annoyed at that, but finally, gave up. “Very well, Mr. Potter, we’re through with you. You may go.”

Harry shakily got down from the stand, permitting himself one last look at Severus, who stared at him for a moment before he looked away. Harry sighed before stepping back into the gallery and moved towards his seat. However, thinking better of it, he instead moved towards the exit and walked out the door, before Disapparating home.

. . .

Harry read in _The Profit_ a fortnight and a day later that Severus had been cleared of all charges, and was fully relieved. He was also aware that Severus would likely return home to Spinner’s End, which Harry had, upon having him moved to St. Mungo’s, affixed with new furniture and appliances, and he knew it was likely that his former professor would be less than grateful. It was on that day that his fireplace flared up, just as he’d expected, but he still drew back from the vehemence that spat forth from it.

“POTTER! Get over here, now!”

Harry sighed, thinking it was slightly considerate for Severus to leave the portal open for him. It was half a moment later that he casted the Concealment Charm on himself to hide his pregnancy before making a grab for the precious vial of his own memories and stepping into the glowing green flames, and getting a good look at Severus’s home for the first time. “Hello, Severus. Are you well, now that you’re a free man?”

“Don’t attempt to patronize me, Potter,” Severus snapped, and gestured around the room. “This has goodwill written all over it, which leads me to believe that it was you.”

Harry sighed. “Yes. When I heard that you were still confined to the hospital wing, and had you moved to St. Mungo’s, I figured you should come home to a nice house.”

Severus sneered. “You should know by now that I’m not a nice man, Potter.”

“No, maybe not,” Harry said, trying to force the tears not to come. “I honestly thought I saw a glimmer of hope for you, but that all died when you turned me away at St. Mungo’s.”

“Are you going to cease this blathering and leave me in peace?”

“You’re the one who called me here, you know.”

“For an explanation, Potter, not a guilt trip,” Severus spat.

Harry sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Look, nothing has been the same since that night in Sherwood Forest,” he told him, and Severus looked away. “I know, somewhere deep inside of you, Severus, that you still care for me, love me. Just like I love you.”

“Whatever you said in court—”

“It was the truth!” Harry shouted, and Severus’s eyes snapped to his. “I was told not to lie on the stand, as you well know. And then there is what Umbridge did to me,” Harry said, showing off the cuts of _I must not tell lies_ emblazoned on the back of his left hand, which he hadn’t bothered to get rid of with the Elder Wand.

Severus drew back. “What...? What...?”

“Umbridge did it to me, plus everyone who was involved with Dumbledore’s Army during fifth year,” Harry explained, and Severus looked shocked. “You know, when I got the Elder Wand, I got rid of this cut on Hermione’s arm, that Tom Riddle had cursed there, when she was at Bathilda Bagshot’s house—it said Mudblood,” Harry spat, and Severus looked shocked. “And then, I used it to get rid of your mark,” he said, nodding at the arm that Severus had used to have the tattoo. “But I never got rid of mine.”

“Good for you,” Severus said bitterly.

“It’s not because I’m a fucking martyr or anything, Severus,” he snapped. “It’s because it was never about me—ever. It was about keeping my friends and loved ones safe. You factor into that group, Severus, always. I love you.”

Severus sighed, looking away. “There’s no point...”

“There’s every point in the world,” Harry said, stepping closer. “You just need to understand that things are not what they seem.”

Severus glared at Harry. “Get out.”

“No, I’m not getting out—I refuse to give up on you, on us,” Harry said, and marched towards him, grabbing ahold of his collar and pulling him downwards. Harry captured Severus’s mouth with his, and felt a ray of hope as Severus moaned at the contact. However, those hopes were dashed as Severus suddenly yanked away from him, pushing him away.

“Enough,” he snapped.

Harry bit his lip. “Severus, please...”

“NO!” he shouted. “I will not.”

Harry shook his head, feeling utterly lost. “Very well,” he said quietly.

“I never want to see you again, Potter.”

Harry felt his will breaking then, but he held back from exploding with rage or sadness. “Fine, if that is what you desire, then so be it,” he said, and brought out the vial, before yanking Severus’s hand towards him and pressing the vial into it. “This is my condition for staying away. Watch this once, and then if you still don’t want to see me again, fine. I’ll stay away.” Harry’s resolve broke then, and he turned away, never once meeting Severus’s eyes as he stepped into the flames, and closed the link to Spinner’s End for good.

. . .

The summer had flown by quickly, with Hermione and Ron announcing formally that they were indeed expecting their first child in December. Harry couldn’t be happier for his two best friends, and promised to be the child’s godfather. Another piece of happy news was that Dean and Ginny had finally selected a wedding date, and had decided to hold it at the Burrow. The wedding was to be in July of the following year, which meant a year-long engagement, and plenty of time to put everything to rights.

Harry decided by August, after his eighteenth birthday, that he was finally ready to achieve his dream of joining the Auror Department. There were still Death Eaters on the run, but, provided that Harry checked in with doctors at St. Mungo’s regarding his pregnancy regularly, Harry was accepted into the department come September. The only conditions that Harry were that he would still be permitted to use Draco’s borrowed spells, and that nobody who absolutely didn’t need to would need to know about the pregnancy; both requests were granted.

When the first weekend of the month arrived, Harry was preparing a dinner party for all of his friends at Grimmauld Place. Kreacher had been very helpful in the last several months of Harry’s pregnancy; with only one month left to go, Kreacher was taking over most of the household duties, which he didn’t mind in the slightest. He would willingly make Harry all of the food he craved, and Harry was surprised that the one he craved the most was a rather delectable root vegetable soup, from the old Black family cookbooks, which had made Hermione laugh for hours, while Ron had groaned in disgust.

“Mate, why are you on your feet?” Ron asked as he and Hermione stepped through the Floo about twenty minutes early.

“Just stretching,” Harry assured them, taking note of the butterbeer six-pack that Ron had ahold of, and clapped his hands. “Oh, Kreacher will be so happy. Now we won’t run out.”

“Honestly,” Hermione said, gently guiding Harry back onto the couch as Ron trooped through the kitchen to deliver the butterbeer, as well as attempt to pilfer some dinner. “You need to save your strength, Harry. It’s bad enough Kingsley approved your Auror application in your condition! Active duty—my goodness! If it were up to me, I’d send you straight to a desk, or to have you merely read over case notes here, and you’d be grateful.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I’m fine, Hermione, really.”

Hermione clicked her tongue, but placed a hand on her stomach, and shook her head indulgently at him. “Rose has been flipping around,” she said quietly, and Harry automatically grinned at the direct mention of his goddaughter. “She and Lily will be best friends.”

“No doubt,” Harry replied.

Hermione sighed. “Harry, there’s something you should know...”

Ron came out of the kitchen, nursing his fingers, which were bright red, but levitated various goblets of butterbeer towards Harry and Hermione, while sipping one for himself, a rather abashed look on his face. “Kreacher may have thwacked me with a spoon,” he said with a chuckle. “He’s nearly as bad as Mum is...” He cut himself off then, staring at Hermione. “You tell him?”

“Not yet.”

“Tell me what?” Harry asked.

Ron sighed. “Mate, with you not being so active now that you’re so far along, we thought it would be best if you heard it from us and not Kingsley...”

“Heard what?” Harry demanded, flying to his feet and walking around the room. He remembered when Dumbledore had kept him in the dark during his fifth-year, and how resentful he was because of it, and he absolutely hated, hated it when others did so in future, as they believed that making such decisions for him were beneficial when, in point of fact, Harry preferred the utmost honest from the get-go.

Hermione worried her lower lip, but finally spoke. “It’s Snape...”

“Is he all right?” Harry cried out, whirling around to face her.

Ron sighed. “It’s nothing like that,” he assured Harry, sitting beside him, and feeling relieved when Harry visibly calmed himself. “But it’s...”

“ _What_?!” Harry pressed.

Hermione swallowed, knowing that they had to tell him as she cradled the burgeoning swell of her belly, quickly managing to grow anxious in the seconds that followed. “Well, he gave his notice a few weeks ago that he’s agreed with the appointment of Professor McGonagall as Headmistress of Hogwarts, permanently,” she said.

Harry blinked. “All right?” he said, spreading his hands, before bringing his butterbeer back to his lips. “It’s not like he ever wanted the position anyway...”

“That’s not all there is to it, Harry,” Ron said, and Harry stopped talking. “Snape’s put the house in Spinner’s End is up for sale.”

Harry shook his head, not getting it. “I don’t understand.”

“Draco heard it from Lucius just a few days ago, and Draco only told us last night, when we were over at the lodge with him and Neville to get some baby clothes that they’d picked up for us,” Hermione said quickly. “He thought it would be best if it came from us.”

“If what...?” Harry couldn’t finish.

“Snape is leaving England, mate, for good,” Ron said quietly.

Harry let out a gasp then, and his goblet of butterbeer crashed to the floor, with Harry falling right along with it, and then there was a combination of blackness and nothing.


	12. He’s Never Out of Sight

Harry awoke in his bedroom, and felt a slight pounding in his head as he struggled to right himself, and was slightly annoyed when he was gently pushed back against the pillows. He turned to yell at the culprit, but was surprised to see Ginny sitting beside the bed. Harry did his best to compose himself, although Ginny clearly saw the surprise etched into his face, along with momentary flashes of pain and exhaustion.

“It’s been a day,” she said gently, before he could ask, and Harry blinked, letting her know that he understood her. “Madam Pomfrey rushed right over after Hermione called her. She prescribed a Dreamless Sleep to calm your nerves.”

Harry cleared his throat then, and Ginny poured him a goblet of water from the pitcher on the nightstand beside him. Harry nodded in thanks and sipped from the goblet, never taking his eyes from Ginny. “Where is everyone?”

“Ron and Hermione have been taking sitting with you in turns,” she explained. “I’ve only started my turn an hour ago. They’re getting some sleep in Regulus’s room. As for Dean, he’s in another bedroom here, I think it belonged to Mr. and Mrs. Black at one point, awaiting his turn to sit with you.”

“Got the Boggart out of there with Kreacher’s help,” Harry put in.

Ginny smiled. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate that, as he’s a very light sleeper. As for Draco and Neville, they’re back at the lodge, seeing to Scorpius, but they promised to be one fire-call away, should we have need of them.”

“And Luna and Rolf?”

“ _Quibbler_ emergency, I’m afraid,” Ginny said softly. “They heard a rumor about a Golden Snidget in peril—they’re endangered, you know,” she said, and Harry nodded, remembering reading about that somewhere. “Their task is to not only report about it, but to get it to safety in the Golden Snidget reserve, but the location is classified.”

“And you?” Harry asked, and Ginny raised her eyes to his. “I heard that you and Dean were getting your assignments from the ministry, now that you’ve graduated.”

“We’ve gotten our assignments,” Ginny replied with a smile, and Harry saw how proud of herself and her fiancé she was. “I’ve been made Sports Editor for _The Daily Profit_ , while Dean’s joined Hermione and Draco’s crusade and has agreed to be the face of the movement. Since he thought he was Muggleborn after all these years, he considered such a thing to be fitting. His ultimate goal is to find his biological father’s family because of it, and to make records a more open thing, so his Blood Status will never be doubted again.”

“That’s brilliant, Gin!” Harry cried out, and moved to get out of bed again, but Ginny almost immediately moved forward and stopped him. “Oi! What gives?” he demanded, his green eyes flashing as they met her brown ones. “It’s my house for Merlin’s sake... Why can’t I get up whenever I want to?”

“I can’t let you get out of bed unless it is to relieve yourself, Harry. I’m sorry,” she said to Harry’s annoyed expression, “but it’s Madam Pomfrey’s orders.”

Harry grumbled under his breath. “Course it is,” he muttered, but nevertheless tucked himself back into bed, and yet he was pleased when Ginny conjured a few more pillows that he could use to prop himself up with, and gave her a smile. “Thanks.”

She hesitated for a moment before permitting herself to speak again. “Listen, Harry, I was going to tell you before Neville came downstairs with Scorpius, back in June, about my theory about Snape, but...”

Harry was immediately on edge again, and he felt his blood pumping at the direct mention of the man he loved. “Please tell me,” he begged. “Please, Gin. I need to know. I’ve been smacking my head against the wall these last few months.”

“And I would’ve told you sooner,” she said quickly. “But I had to finish my exams and graduate with Dean, plus there’s been the wedding planning and starting my job for the ministry. There’s just been a lot happening.”

“Yeah, I understand that, and I don’t blame you, Ginny,” Harry told her, and Ginny breathed a sigh of relief. “A lot’s been happening on my end, too. I’ve had to attempt to get over the man I’m in love with, and constantly prepare for this baby that he doesn’t even know about. Not to mention being on bed rest, which means that now I can probably only read Auror reports or specific case notes, but only if Madam Pomfrey allows it...”

“She says you can do anything you want, provided that it doesn’t exhaust or upset you,” Ginny informed his carefully.

Harry sighed. “Too bad. Everything either exhausts or upsets me these days.”

Ginny nodded. “Right.”

Harry swallowed then, forcing himself to be calm, knowing that Ginny was unlikely to tell him anything if he didn’t appear to have such a front. “All right, I’m calm,” he told her, and her dark eyes snapped to his. “Just tell me... I need to know.”

She nodded. “Of course, Harry,” she replied. “My theory behind Snape’s apparent hateful demeanor towards you was that I believed Voldemort’s dagger to be laced with something. A curse, perhaps,” she said, and Harry’s eyes snapped to hers.

“A curse?”

“Yes,” Ginny said softly. “A curse to make whoever disobeyed him to life a half-life, without the love of the person they hold dear.”

“But Severus... He was never meant to live, was he?”

Ginny smiled. “Perhaps, perhaps not. I don’t particularly wish to enter the mind of Voldemort again anytime soon.”

Harry sighed, inwardly cursing himself for his stupidity. “Sorry, Gin.”

“No harm done,” she told him. “But, of course, there is the matter of breaking the curse. You want the curse to be broken, don’t you?”

“Of course,” Harry replied without hesitation. “I love him, and Lily’s going to be born in less than a month. I want him here for our daughter, and for me.”

Ginny nodded. “Well, it seems that we’re going to have to consider our options, then,” she told him, and Harry nodded back at her. “We need to really think about this, Harry, to think about how one would go about breaking a curse.”

Harry bit his lips. “Well, maybe there’s an ally or two we haven’t called upon just yet, now that this new development has presented itself, who can help us out.”

Ginny raised her eyes to his. “Who did you have in mind?”

. . .

The room was dark as Harry writhed beneath the blankets, grunting every now again in pain. The only sound that didn’t come from him was the occasional concerned hoot from Dulcis, as well as Kreacher snapping into view every now and again, bringing in more hot water. Harry didn’t fully understand what was going on, other than the notion that his daughter would be there soon. He squeezed his eyes shut then, a combination of tears and sweat dripping down his face as he tried his best to allow this birth to be over quickly.

“Kreacher!” he screamed.

Kreacher immediately ran towards the bed. “Yes, Master Harry?”

“More Wiggenweld Potion!” Harry yelled, and Kreacher made a grab for the bottle, before tipping some down Harry’s throat. Harry fell back against the pillows then, as his daughter tried to make her way into the world.

After hours of pain, sweat, and tears, as dawn broke on that first day of October, something other than Harry’s screams came forth from that room. A shrill cry of a child came forth, and Kreacher came forward, quickly washing the infant as Harry casted some Cleaning Spells onto himself and to the bedspread, before he tipped more Wiggenweld Potion into his mouth. He felt that his throat was raw from the impact of the birth, but as he conjured the lights on in the bedroom, the overwhelming sensation that it was all worth it flooded him then.

“Kreacher...”

Kreacher smiled, wrapped the now-clean and calm baby into a pink silk blanket, embroidered with the initials L.L.P., which Molly had stitched for Harry over the summer. Kreacher stepped towards Harry, cradling the perfect bundle, and set her into his master’s arms. “Master will need to eat soon to re-gain his strength,” the house-elf reported, as he had been given strict instructions by Madam Pomfrey for before, during, and after the birth. “Kreacher will begin to cook now. What would Master Harry like?”

“Sandwiches,” Harry said, the first thing that came to mind. “With that breaded chicken you make so well, and mayonnaise. Lots and lots of mayonnaise,” he told the elf, unsure of why he wanted something so fatty, but disregarded it.

“Of course, Master Harry,” Kreacher said, bowing. “Kreacher will go and procure those for master right away,” he said, and, with that, popped from view.

Harry gazed down at his daughter for the first time, and the phrase ‘utter perfection’ immediately entered his thoughts. He smiled down at her as she stared up at him with light eyes, leading Harry to believe that she would inherit his green orbs. Her nose was his as well, and her mouth, but the long raven locks that covered her head were unmistakably Severus’s, as was the shape of her beautiful face, as well as her hands, which he knew would soon boast the same long, tapered fingers as his former potions professor.

“Lily Luna Potter, you are simply perfection,” Harry declared, holding her close and kissing her forehead, chuckling as she let out a soft sigh of contentment. “Let’s just hope that, someday soon, you can meet the brilliant man who also holds the title of ‘your father’.” Harry sighed, knowing full well that Ron and Hermione would never forgive him if he didn’t let them know immediately that Lily was here. He summoned his wand wordlessly, and it flew into his hand and he whispered, “ _Expecto Patronum_ ,” all the while gazing down at Lily, before raising his eyes to the stag, who patiently awaited his message. “Ron, Hermione, sorry to wake you. Just thought you should know that Lily is here, safe and well. She’s got long black hair and I think she’s going to have my eyes. It’s plain to see that I’m her father, but there’s quite a bit of Severus in there as well. Just thought you should know...” He nodded to the stag then, who immediately darted off out the window and into the silver light of dawn. “Dulcis,” Harry said, and the small owl hooted, flying closer. “What do you think of Lily?”

Dulcis cooed then, gently lowering her head and carding her break through Lily’s hair. Dulcis’s eyes widened then as Lily’s eyes opened and gazed at her, merely watching the little bird above her head. Dulcis cooed again, and affectionately nibbled at Harry’s fingers, almost as if the bird was congratulating him on a job well done. It was at Harry’s chuckle that Dulcis flew to the top of the headboard upon Harry’s bed, keeping firm eyes on both the door, the window, and the fire, almost as if she was daring anyone to come in and upset her master and young mistress.

“You’re happy that Lily’s here, aren’t you, Dulcis?” Harry asked, and slowly pulled up his nightshirt to feed his daughter for the first time.

Dulcis cooed indulgently, but never came back down from her perch, wanting everyone who came into the room to know that she fancied herself a guard owl, and that nothing and no one would ever be able to change that.

. . .

Hermione woke up at around eight o’clock that morning and kissed Ron on the forehead before she slipped from their marital bed and padded across the floor. Slipping on a crimson robe, she left their bedroom and headed downstairs to the kitchen, where she put on a pot of tea and got out a carton of eggs from the fridge, plus some sausages, and some small potatoes from the cupboard beside the fridge. She sliced the potatoes expertly before putting them in a spice bath and into a frying man, humming to herself as they sizzled. She cracked four eggs into a bowl and whisked them, before seasoning them and putting them into a second pan. Finally, she got the sausages out of their packet and put them into a third pan, and soon the kitchen smelled heavenly of breakfast cooking.

Ron smelled breakfast and came downstairs, pulling a sweater on top of his tank top and sleep pants, as he came up behind Hermione. He chuckled as his wife giggled, and he gently moved her hair away from her neck and kissed her, and Hermione casually brought out her wand to take over, before turning around and pulling Ron into her arms. Ron leaned down immediately, kissing his wife and holding her close to him, and never wanting to let her go, and let out a little moan of protest when she pulled away.

“Don’t want to burn breakfast, darling,” she said, gently kissing him one last time. She summoned two plates from the cabinet, while Ron fetched silverware, napkins, and teacups for their tea, and set them all down onto the table. Hermione coaxed their eggs, potatoes, and sausages onto their respective plates, before sending them to the table, and sending the pans she’d used into the sink, the enchanted brush—a wedding gift from Molly—sprang to life and proceeded to wash them. “You’re certainly tucking in,” Hermione joked, sending their tea kettle over to the table, along with milk and sugar, as she crossed the room, noticing that Ron had stabbed his eggs and was bringing them to his lips.

“Don’t want it to get cold,” he said, although his tone was sheepish.

Hermione giggled, knowing that her husband much preferred her cooking now that it was not limited to root vegetable stew and a few scattered forest berries here and there, and moved to stab her own eggs, beginning to eat her breakfast in a truly domestic sense, one she had grown accustomed to in such a short time. “Rose seems to be just as impatient as her father,” she said quietly, using her spare hand to touch her stomach.

Ron was immediately all ears, as he was whenever his daughter was brought up directly, and instantly set down his fork, kneeling down in front of Hermione and pressing his ear to her expanding stomach. “How is it possible to love someone so much already, ‘Mione?” he asked, his tone quiet.

Hermione smiled, carding her fingers through her husband’s hair. “Likely because of how much love went into conceiving her,” she whispered, pressing a kiss onto his head. “I didn’t know that all this happiness was possible, but I did hope for it.”

Ron picked up his head then, and caressed Hermione’s face with his hand, and she blushed under the intensity of his stare. “So did I,” he replied.

As they stared at one another, merely enjoying the other’s company, and basking in the mutual love between them, it was not difficult to understand that they didn’t see the flash of silver light bounding onto their property. Nor did they at first hear the clomps of the stags hooves at it made itself known, charging inside via the front door and, finding no one, checked the living room. It was then that the stag decided to try the kitchen and, finally spotting Ron and Hermione, came towards them, butting Ron on his backside to the point where he let out a shout and flew to his feet, only to see the great creature behind him and immediately take his seat.

“Speak,” Hermione commanded the animal, and attempting not to laugh at the momentary display of fear from her husband.

The stag opened its mouth and promptly spoke. “Ron, Hermione, sorry to wake you. Just thought you should know that Lily is here, safe and well. She’s got long black hair and I think she’s going to have my eyes. It’s plain to see that I’m her father, but there’s quite a bit of Severus in there as well. Just thought you should know...” After relaying its message, the stag lowered its head in respect to their pair of them before walking calmly towards the window, and leaping through it, disappearing from their view.

“Lily is here!” Hermione shouted, turning to Ron. “Honestly, Ronald...”

Ron, meanwhile, as soon as the stag had relayed its message, began shoveling his breakfast into his mouth as quickly as he dared. “Sorry, ‘Mione, but this is my goddaughter we’re talking about, and I won’t let Ginny get her hands on her first!”

Hermione rolled her eyes, quickly finishing her breakfast as well before she got to her feet, motioning for their plates and silverware to go into the sink, and for their napkins to go into the washing machine. “Come along, then, Ron. We’d best ready ourselves and get cleaned up. I don’t think Harry would take too kindly to us showing up all disheveled.”

Ron sighed, hesitating for a moment. “I don’t think we should be going to Grimmauld Place just yet, Hermione.”

She blinked. “What? Why not?”

“We need to summon Ginny and Dean, Luna and Rolf, and Draco and Neville immediately,” he told her, and Hermione looked shocked.

“Have you gone mad? Ginny and Dean are on a strict schedule for the ministry, not to mention how many reports Luna and Rolf have to present to _The Profit_. And then there’s Draco and Neville, who are tending to Scorpius’s needs...”

“Then we meet at Longbottom Lodge,” Ron said, his voice firm as he took his wife’s arm and propelled her towards the staircase. “Shower first.”

“But, but,” Hermione sputtered, shaking her head in confusion, “why do we have to go to the lodge now of all times, Ronald?! We’ve got our jobs, too, you know...”

Ron sighed. “You were all hot-to-trot to go to Grimmauld a moment ago...”

“Well, yes, of course,” Hermione said quickly, doing her best not to trip on the last of the stairs as Ron guided them into their bedroom, which boasted a walk-in closet and en suite bathroom. “I supposed that a little visit with our goddaughter wouldn’t do any harm, let alone wreck our schedule today, but now...”

“But now we’ve got to call in the troops, Hermione,” Ron stated, throwing off his tank top as he moved towards the shower, and Hermione’s jaw dropped at just how impeccable his body had become, now that he was chasing Death Eaters all day, every day. “We’ve got to figure out a way to get Harry and Snape back together, and quickly, because Lily deserves her other father, just as much as Harry deserves the love of his life back...” He was proceeding to step out of his sleep pants then, and turned to face his wife, and raised his eyebrows at her expression. “Is there something you’d like to say, ‘Mione?”

Hermione swallowed then, her voice threatening to tremble. “Yes. Take me into the shower with you,” she said, and threw off her robe, which left little to the imagination, and caused Ron to do a double take at his wife as she sauntered past him, and looked over her shoulder. “Well? Didn’t you imply that we were in a hurry?”

Ron swallowed audibly then, but nodded. “Yes, Mrs. Granger-Weasley,” he said, and Hermione grinned up at him as he walked into the shower after her.

. . .

Ginny rolled her eyes at the notion that Ron had decided to summon her and Dean on a weekday morning to Longbottom Lodge, given that her and her fiancé’s work schedules were just as important as that of the rest of the family. She had just gotten out of the shower when his Jack Russell Patronus arrived, barking at her that she and Dean were expected. Rolling her eyes, she waited for the dog to leave before she threw off her towel and crossed over to her dresser in the cozy flat that she and Dean now shared in Chelsea, a little less than fifteen minutes away from the Ministry of Magic.

Pulling on a pair of black trousers, plus a white tank top and black blazer, Ginny stepped into a pair of business shoes and walked back into the bathroom. She cast a Drying Spell on her red mane and put a Cleaning Charm upon her teeth before she made her way out of the en suite bathroom and master bedroom and down the hallway, where Dean’s and Ginny’s shared home office was. She let herself in, seeing Dean, already dressed and looking handsome as ever, writing up plans for him, Draco, and Hermione for their next meeting of the Muggle Civil Rights within the Wizarding World.

“Hello, darling,” she said, and Dean looked up from his piece of parchment, smiling at his fiancée and getting to his feet.

“This is a surprise,” he said, pulling her into his arms. “I thought that _The Profit_ called in their editors on Thursdays at ten. Everything all right?”

Ginny sighed. “They just cancelled the meeting before I got into the shower. Apparently, there’s a hot news story that they needed several editors for, and it was senior choice, so I was out of the loop pretty quickly on that one.”

Dean sighed, kissing Ginny’s forehead. “Sorry about that, love. You’ll get your chance, now that Quidditch try-outs have already happened at Hogwarts. I know that you’re excited to be reporting on some of the games there.”

Ginny laughed. “Yeah, well, it certainly would be fun to visit the old stomping ground.” She hesitated for a moment before speaking again. “Ron’s Patronus came and met me after I got out of the shower.”

“Everything all right with him and Hermione?”

“I assume so,” Ginny replied with a small shrug of her shoulders. “He didn’t mention either of them, and I assume that it doesn’t have to do with them.”

“What was the message?”

Ginny rolled her eyes, leaning onto Dean’s shoulder. “You and I, along with Luna and Rolf, have been summoned by Ron and Hermione to Longbottom Lodge. He didn’t say why, just that it was urgent and we had to get there quickly.”

Dean nodded, giving one final look to his parchment before pulling away from Ginny and lowering his quill, before making a grab for his jacket. “I wasn’t getting too far anyway,” he said with a smile.

“What is it?” Ginny asked, nodding at it.

“Just a speech for the next meeting, which isn’t due to happen for another month. We only just got the topics to be discussed, and I’ve got plenty of notes jotted down in the meantime. There’s nothing to worry about,” he assured her, taking her hand, and going out of the office, and down the stairs towards the parlor, where their massive fireplace was.

Ginny took ahold of a handful of Floo Powder, before tossing it into the grate, and green flames suddenly roared to life at the contact. “Longbottom Lodge, Norfolk,” she said clearly, and she and Dean stepped through.

They hesitated in the front hall of the beautiful estate for a moment before moving through to the parlor, which was vastly bigger than their flat in Chelsea. Draco was sitting beside the fireside, with Scorpius in his arms, and Neville was standing by, staring down at his husband and son. He looked up as Ginny and Dean entered, and smiled at them. Hermione was sitting opposite Draco, whispering about babies in general, while Ron was deep in conversation with Rolf about Rolf’s recent trips with Luna, and Luna, meanwhile, crossed the room and embraced Ginny as soon as she and Dean stepped inside.

“What’s going on?” Ginny asked, embracing Luna back for a moment.

“We expecting anyone else?” Dean wanted to know.

“No,” Ron replied, clapping Rolf on the shoulder before getting to his feet and, quite soon, all eyes were on the youngest Weasley son. “I’ve called us all here for a purpose. Harry’s Patronus came to me and Hermione’s place this morning to announce that Lily was born, and that she looks like a combination of both him and Snape.”

Ginny swallowed and moved towards the bar, getting herself a goblet of butterbeer. “Well, that certainly can’t be easy for Harry,” she said quietly, sipping her drink.

“No,” Hermione agreed, shaking her head. “All I know is, I wanted to go to Grimmauld Place immediately to congratulate him, but Ron insisted we gather here, with all of you, instead. And he wouldn’t tell me why,” she went on, fixing him with a look.

“Honestly, Ron!” Ginny reprimanded him. “You’ve got to communicate with her. As your wife, she needs to be your sounding board. Dean and I aren’t even married yet, and he’s an excellent communicator,” she said, walking over to Dean, who automatically put his arm around her waist with an indulgent grin. “It’s because of this that I can’t wait to marry him—one of the reasons, anyway. And besides—”

“Gin,” Ron said, annoyed.

“Ron,” Dean said warningly.

“She’s not wrong, mate, about the whole communication thing between significant others or one’s spouse,” Neville put in, and gazed adoringly down at Draco, who returned the look, and handed Scorpius off to Hermione before getting to his feet and nestling himself into his husband’s arms. “Draco and I communicate and, even if we disagree, we know what the other is thinking, and it’s beneficial.”

“It certainly helps,” Draco said softly.

“True,” Luna said, speaking for the first time. “Rolf and I seldom disagree, but on the rare occasion that it happens,” she said, moving to sit beside her husband, who took her hand, “I feel better knowing that we can compromise.”

“Exactly,” Rolf said. “Compromising is key.”

“Anyhow,” Ron said, quickly growing from annoyed to irritated. “I called the meeting because we can’t allow Snape to get away with his treatment of Harry. Ginny, how did your conversation go about what Voldemort did to him?”

“As well as could be expected,” Ginny replied, suddenly remembering that, due to her obligation to _The Profit_ and Ron’s to the ministry, they’d seldom talked since Harry had collapsed at Grimmauld Place a month before. “He thinks that there’s something in the idea, but obviously we can’t force Snape to watch the memories...”

“We could,” Dean said darkly, but immediately shook his head. “I know it’s reprehensible to think about, but what are our other options, really? Snape is being a cad here, but what else can we really do?”

“I’m so glad you asked.” The voice caused everyone—save for Ron—to look surprisingly over at who had spoken. Entering the room was Minerva McGonagall herself, and she smiled at her former students, sending an indulgent look at Scorpius before she surveyed them all with her green robes trimmed with black velvet, her precise brown bun placed upon the top of her head as it had been back when they’d been at school. “Mr. Weasley called me here,” she said by means of an explanation, and gently, pushed her glasses a bit further up her nose. “I am aware of the situation of Harry and Severus, and I am prepared to offer my services.”

“What do you suggest, professor?” Ginny asked.

“I suggest appealing to Severus’s compassionate side—the situations in which it makes itself known, I’m afraid, are few and far between, but they’re there, I grant you. He is due to return to Hogwarts to gather the last of his things—potions and his books and the like—in the wake of him putting Spinner’s End up for sale.”

“So, there’s a buyer, then?” Hermione wanted to know.

“Several people have expressed an interest, yes,” Professor McGonagall replied. “I believe it has solely to do with what Harry did in terms of renovation.”

“Too bad Snape didn’t appreciate it,” Draco muttered.

“Yes, quite bad, Mr. Malfoy, although we can agree that Harry has quite the stubborn streak,” Professor McGonagall said with a nod. “I’m due to have a meeting with Severus just before he leaves this evening. Hopefully, I can attempt to reason with him then. If not, it is out of my hands. It is his intention to leave England entirely and, I’m afraid, he has not been forthcoming about where he intends to go.”

Ron sighed. “All we can do is hope, then.” He hesitated for a moment before he turned to his old Head of House. “It’s bloody brilliant of you to do this, professor.”

“It appears so. And thank you for that assessment, Mr. Weasley,” she put in, her dark green eyes shining with amusement.

. . .

Headmistress Minerva McGonagall had been aware of Severus Snape from the time he had begun at Hogwarts in 1971. Although she became even more aware of him as the years went by—due to his Death Eater sympathies and later because they were co-workers and Severus becoming Head of Slytherin—she knew that Albus, her mentor, had always trusted him. As she sat in the headmistress’s office, her work done for the day, she mused about all her years of knowing Severus and how quick she’d been to disown him when the word came that it was he who had killed Albus. Now that Harry had shown her Severus’s memories, and he’d been acquitted of the charges by the Wizengamot, she had fully forgiven him for his apparent misdeeds and their friendship had resumed.

As for his relationship with Harry Potter, suffice it to say that she had no knowledge of it until Harry had written to her several weeks prior. It had come as a shock that the young wizard who had vanquished Tom Riddle, and who had seemed to loathe the former Potion’s Professor, would seek to get as far away from Severus as possible, once he left the school. However, it did not come as a complete surprise to Minerva, who had seen the pair of them in a heated embrace during the young man’s sixth year, outside of Horace Slughorn’s Christmas party, in her Animagus form whilst wandering around the castle. She felt a little embarrassed by walking in on the private moment, and would have intervened, were it not for young Harry’s arms wrapping around his most-hated professor and pulling him closer. Despite her better judgement, she’d merely walked away from the situation, knowing that Severus would likely be thrown in Azkaban for the offense, but Harry was no longer a child, and likely could have done something about the situation if he truly didn’t want it to happen.

The knock on her office door clouded her thoughts, and she got to her feet, giving a small smile to Fawkes as she moved towards it. “Come in,” she said, her tone firm.

Severus opened the door and crossed the threshold, his black potions bag around his shoulders and hanging off of him, and gave a curt nod to Minerva. “I’ve gathered my supplies and personal belongings and effects that I saw fit to leave behind in the wake of the battle. I’ll be leaving now, if there was nothing else.”

Minerva sighed, knowing full well that she would have to approach the situation delicately, if she ever wanted to get through to him. “Actually, Severus, there was something else. Would you mind shutting the door please?”

Severus felt his brow arching slightly, but nevertheless shut the door behind him. “Is it school business you wish to discuss, Minerva?”

She shook her head, feeling her fingers knotting together in a moment of anxiety. “Would you like some tea, Severus?”

“No, thank you,” Severus replied, shaking his head. “I would appreciate it if you would just get straight to the point, Minerva. I don’t want to be rude, but I would like to get a good nights’ rest, if it’s all the same to you. The potential buyers will be coming to the house next week and I have much to do...”

“That can all be sorted later,” Minerva said, knowing that this meeting hinged ultimately on Severus reclaiming his feelings for Harry, which meant that he could not leave England. “I feel that we need to discuss Harry...”

Severus automatically sneered at the mention of the name; why could he not just escape from the boy at last? “Why must we discuss Potter?”

“Because I know what was between you, Severus,” she said, growing impatient with beating around the bush. “There was something between the pair of you, and I know it, and you need to admit it to yourself.”

Severus shook his head. “I don’t believe this. Who was it that got to you? Who got to you to meddle in my affairs? Was it Potter?” he snapped.

“No, as a matter of fact, Harry and I have not spoken directly since your trial,” Minerva said quickly, staring at him. “Why would you even think that Harry would put himself in this situation? He’s been devastated enough.”

Severus scoffed. “Lies.”

“Not lies!” she cried out. “He even admitted when he was on the stand at your trial that he loved you, and you’re instructed not to lie on the stand, just as you are in the Muggle world. Why would he select that moment, of all moments, to lie about his feelings for you?”

“Attention?” Severus asked, spreading his hands. “I’ve no idea what goes on in that boys’ head, and I’ve no desire to do so.”

“Why would Harry seek attention from something as controversial about his sexuality?” Minerva whispered to him, and even Severus could admit to himself that lying about being gay was just not done, not even in this day and age. “You know as well as I do that he hated fame, Severus. I mean, perhaps, in the beginning, he didn’t dislike it, given that it was an entirely new experience for him to be treated so well...” She hesitated for a moment, looking up at Albus’s portrait but, as always, the former headmaster was asleep. “I’m sure you know by now what happened at the Dursley residence, Severus, for it was an open secret within the staff.”

Severus grimaced and turned away from her. “Yes. But I didn’t know of it fully until a year ago, I’m afraid. I may not be fond of the boy, Minerva, but I would never wish or sanction that treatment on anyone so young...”

“Is it just because of his connection to Lily?”

Severus turned and looked at her. “What?”

“Your compassion for his plight while he lived with his relatives,” Minerva said quietly. “I ask because it seems as if you have some experience in that area.”

Severus sighed, dragging his hands through his raven locks. “I’m not going to stand here and admit that my childhood was perfect, Minerva.”

“Nor am I, Severus, nor am I,” she whispered. “But, on the subject, what do you consider to be perfection, Severus, given that it doesn’t exist?”

“I suppose the Evans family showed me what normalcy could be within a family,” Severus said quietly, bittersweet memories flowing through him then. “They didn’t have mismatched clothes or lack of funds to provide something simple as putting food on the table—good food, too, not canned and cheap stuff. Mr. and Mrs. Evans perhaps had a half glass of wine at dinner, but only on very special occasions, like a birthday or holiday. But my mother and father...”

“I seldom saw you outside your school robes when you were a boy, Severus. Were you ashamed of your typical wardrobe?”

Severus visibly swallowed. “If one could call it that, yes. The Evans family took pity on me and would buy me clothes, but my father would burn them or toss them into the gutter around the back of the house. He said they were charity, and we didn’t accept charity.”

“Is that as bad as it got, Severus?”

“No.”

Severus blew some air out of his lungs as he recalled his father, Tobias, yelling at his mother, Eileen, for producing a wizard son, when he himself was a Muggle. Then the drinking began and the fights escalated to Eileen getting beaten; it was after he started at Hogwarts, likely by his third-year, that Severus stepped in and fought back against Tobias’s attacks upon his mother, and then they were both beaten. The worst of it came that old, leather-worn belt that Tobias Snape was in possession of, and Severus still recalled the buckle effortlessly and precisely slicing into the flesh of his back...

“My father was physically abusive.”

“Just towards you?”

“No. To my mother as well.”

Minerva nodded. “I am sorry to hear that, Severus.”

He sighed. “It doesn’t matter. It is over now.”

“That part of your life may be over, Severus, but a new chapter has already begun. If you’re not careful, you could stand to lose it before it even begins for you.”

Severus sighed, permitting himself to look at Minerva again. “What do you mean?”

Minerva bit her lip for a moment, knowing full well that the impertinent information would come as a bit of a shock to Severus, and, as such, she would need to proceed with caution. “Harry has had a child.”

Severus blinked then, letting go of his potions bag which fell to the floor as he stared at her. “A child? Potter has had a child?”

Minerva nodded. “Yes, Severus. Harry has given birth, this morning at dawn, to be exact. It is a little girl.”

“A girl?”

“Yes. He’s called her Lily Luna Potter,” Minerva went on, and Severus quickly did the math, knowing full well that Lily had to have been conceived in early January, which meant... “You are her other father, Severus,” Minerva said softly, and Severus fell into a chair beside him, shocked at the notion that, not only had Harry managed to hide his pregnancy but that he, in fact, had assisted in his condition.

“Lily... She’s mine?” he whispered.

Minerva sighed. “Yes, Severus. She had his eyes, but your hair, fingers, and the shape of your face, according to what Mr. Weasley and his wife told me. Her nose, mouth, and skin tone belong to Harry, apparently...”

“I’m a father,” Severus said, completely dumbfounded. Then, he immediately charged towards the fireplace. “Minerva, I must go to Grimmauld Place at once. I know our relationship is less-than-savory, but if the child is mine—”

Minerva blocked his way. “No, Severus, I am afraid I cannot allow it,” she said quietly, and Severus appeared quite affronted at that. “First, you are going to sleep. It’s close to eleven and Harry and Lily are likely asleep. You will sleep as well and, in the morning, you will view Harry’s memories of the night Riddle came here and attacked you.”

“Minerva, I hardly think—”

“By Merlin, Severus, if you do not, I will _Obliviate_ you of your knowledge of Lily!” she snapped then, her eyes narrowing. “You’ve hurt Harry more than you ever could imagine, and you need to learn the truth behind your relationship. Now, to bed I say.”

“Minerva...please...”

“To bed, Severus!” Minerva ordered. “We will speak in the morning, once you’ve viewed Harry’s memories, and only then would it be appropriate for you to see Lily.”

Severus sighed, knowing just how right Minerva was, and trudged to the spare bedroom in the headmaster’s quarters. “Very well...”

“And I’ve locked the Floo Network throughout the castle, and put Anti-Apparition Spells throughout,” she called over his shoulder. “And don’t even think about attempting to get through the gates—they’re under strict instructions not to let you out. And don’t bother with the house-elves, for they’ve been told the same. You are to go to bed and come out in the morning, ready and waiting to view Harry’s memory of that night.”

Severus sighed, but nevertheless turned around. “All right, Minerva.”

“Good,” she replied, levitation his potion’s bag towards him. “Now, go to sleep.”

. . .

Severus tried and managed to sleep for a few hours, and awoke to silvery light coming into the spare bedroom of the headmistress’s office. Throwing the borrowed bedclothes off him, he got to his feet, popping his joints back into place and crossing over towards the window. Why was everyone bothering him now with Potter? Once the war ended and Voldemort had been vanquished for good, Severus though that would be the end of it, but no. People seemed to think that there was something meaningful between them, and, once he finally saw the memories that morning, perhaps they would understand that.

Severus cast a cleaning spell upon himself and his robes from the day before, and stepped into them before coming out of the spare room. He spotted Minerva already at her desk, looking over some parchment, and crossed towards the chair to wait. There was a pot of coffee upon her desk, along with what appeared to be breakfast sandwiches consisting of eggs, cheese, sausages, and potatoes between two English muffins. With the slight nod of her head towards the platter, Severus reluctantly took a sandwich and filled one of the provided cups of coffee, and sipped and chewed, all the while watching Minerva.

“Once you’re finished, we will view the memory,” Minerva said, never taking her eyes off of the parchment in her hands.

Severus chewed the sandwich even more slowly then. He didn’t particularly want to see the memory with him and Potter, but the notion of seeing his daughter outweighed the reluctance to see such a scene. Just hearing about baby Lily hadn’t been enough; he wanted to meet her and hold her, and the notion of having a child that was half him looking up at him without fear and only love caused his heart to clench. Finally, Severus finished his sandwich and cup of coffee before casting another cleaning spell on his hands.

“I’ve finished.”

Minerva looked up from her parchment. “That’s all you want?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“Very well, then.” She vanished the sandwiches and coffee before getting to her feet, crossing the room towards the cupboard and unlocking it. The Pensieve’s shallow bowl came out from there and hovered in midair, while Minerva procured the vial from her robe and poured in into the bowl itself, the black-ink color clouding the pale blue water. She raised her eyes to Severus’s then and sighed. “Are you ready?” she asked.

Severus sighed. “As much as I can be.”

She nodded. “Would you like to go alone?”

Severus hesitated. “Have you seen it?”

She sighed. “I have, yes. Harry sent it to me, initially wanting only you to see it, but later informed me to watch it myself.”

Severus bit his lip. “I’ll go alone, then.”

Minerva stepped back then with a nod. “I’ll be here waiting for you.”

Severus swallowed then before stepping forward and putting his face into the bowl. It only took a moment for him to slip beneath the depths of the water, and soon found himself standing in the same office where he’d just stood. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust but when they did, he saw himself upon the floor, lying motionless, with blood seeping out of his neck.

Half a moment later, Potter, holding onto the Elder Wand, dashed out into the main office, and he let out an inhuman scream as he saw Severus, lying there. Severus continued to watch as Potter dashed forward then, holding the wand aloft, and whispered, “ _Vulnera Sanentur_ ,” over and over again, until the gashes were healed. Severus felt his eyes widen at the compassion and devastation in Potter’s movements, and wondered why he would do such a thing when he spotted the tears on Severus’s face.

Potter swallowed then, wordlessly summoning a vial from the storage behind the headmaster’s desk and catching the tears inside of it, before he cleaned himself of Severus’s blood. Severus noticed that tears blinded Potter’s eyes, and Severus did his best not to compare his eyes to Lily’s, who likely wouldn’t be happy that he’d ‘ruined’ her beloved son.

Severus stepped closer to Potter as he walked over to the _Pensieve_  and tipped the contents of his own tears into the basin, before he leaned inside of the murky depths.

Severus didn’t know if he had the ability to fall in after the younger man, but he needn’t have done, as he knew full well what he was looking at in the first place. A lump raised in his throat at the notion that he’d written off Potter so quickly, when the boy—the young man—had helped him before ‘pilfering’ the memories. With the Horcruxes all destroyed, save for Potter, the Dark Lord was definitely at his most vulnerable, so he was merely taking what was his due. If Severus had cared for him so much, he would have willingly presented the memories to him eventually, so anger towards Potter, he realized, had been unfounded to say the least.

Potter flew up from the Pensieve then, shaking his head as he clutched his heart, and Severus was shocked at the powerful emotion behind those beautiful eyes of his. Potter stared down at the Elder Wand then, and then...“ _Evanesco_ ,” Potter whispered then, pointing the wand at his heart, and Severus watched, amazed, as he seemed to lighten considerably. Charred remains of something, and ash-like smoke came off from him then, and disappeared as quickly as they had appeared in mid-air, and Potter looked like himself; not like his father with his mother’s eyes, but his own person, as he was always meant to be. He then turned to the body of Severus, who was still unconscious upon the floor, and crossed towards him then, slow in his steps.

Severus watched as Potter sent his Patronus to Madam Pomfrey, letting her know what had happened, and Severus was found how amazed he was at the notion that Potter was so cool under pressure in that moment. Next, as he turned around and walked into Severus’s rooms, and Severus followed, noticing that all of Potter’s things and his rucksack were in there. Severus saw Potter send his Patronus to Professor McGonagall, instructing her to look deeply into the Pensieve, which would exonerate Severus from any wrongdoing, and Severus noticed how hopeful Potter seemed in his words. And, finally, he sent off a final Patronus to Weasley and Granger, as she was known then, finally dressed and his things packed.

“I’m going to You-Know-Who,” he said gently to the stag, and the being merely stood and waited for the rest of the message. “I’ve got a few ideas of where he could be. I’m going alone. I know how to handle him now. Keep Hogwarts and each other safe.” He nodded to the stag then, who bowed to him and left. He stepped back out into the headmaster’s office then, Severus at his heels, before Potter leaned down and kissed Severus’s brow, and Severus seemed to feel the caress of the young man’s lips, even now. “I know what to do now,” he whispered to him, and Severus felt something inside him tugging, desperate to be let out and quickly. “I know how to kill him, because I’m not a Horcrux anymore. You-Know-Who is now at his most vulnerable,” came his words, all in one breath. “I’m going to kill him, my love.” His voice broke then before he leaned down and kissed his lover’s lips, and Severus felt the tears entering his eyes at the movements of the young man, one he was so determined to hate, but even he felt that his resolve to do so was weakening. “You’ll never know how much I love you, but I do,” he went on, and Severus stepped closer to hear the tender words spoken by who the public believed to be his enemy. “And I’ll come back for you as soon as I can. I love you so much, Severus Snape. I’ll leave you with this question: Will you marry me when I return?” he whispered then, his voice hitching at the end and he lifted his head, hearing something—footsteps, it must’ve been—and, with a crack, Potter was gone, and Severus stepped forward, wanting to call him back, but was swallowed up top, back into the headmistress’s office, where Minerva stood calmly waiting for his return.

“Minerva...” Severus whispered, his voice raw.

She sighed. “I am sorry, Severus,” she said gently. “We none of us meant to upset you, but you had to know the depths of Harry’s feelings for you.”

Severus dragged his hand down his face, feeling an ache throughout his body that he hadn’t felt in a very long time. It was akin to the one that he’d felt when he’d discovered Lily’s dead body in Godric’s Hollow, in the wake of the Dark Lord’s execution of her. “But... But marriage...” He whispered, locking eyes Minerva. “Potter wished to...?”

“Marry you? Yes. My guess is he still does,” Minerva said quietly.

“I had no idea that it was that strong,” he said. “He... He actually...”

“He loves you, Severus, truly,” Minerva assured him.

“What is wrong with me then, Minerva?” he whispered. “I feel as if I am pre-conditioned to hate him, somehow. Potter must’ve been encouraged by me, on some level, if he proposed marriage to me...”

Minerva sighed. “The first indication I got was outside Horace’s Christmas party, during Harry’s sixth-year,” she replied. “I was wandering the halls in my Animagus form, and came upon the two of you. You were kissing Harry, and, as such, I was about to revert to my human form and stop it, due to your teacher status. However, Harry—surprised at what was happening no doubt—took a moment before he embraced you. He was holding you as one might hold a lover, and he didn’t appear to want you to stop. Even though it was a complicated situation, and Harry was still underage, I didn’t feel it was appropriate for me to step in. Harry was not considered a child any longer, and he could’ve easily pushed you off, had he wanted to...”

Severus nodded. “I remember trying to _Obliviate_ him.”

She laughed. “I doubt you were successful, considering that Harry informed me of the situation via letter, and about how he didn’t want disciplinary action taken against you.”

“Harry also informed me that his feelings for you were true,” she went on, “as evidenced by the declaration he made in the memory.”

“Well, I must have reciprocated the feelings,” Severus replied. “But, why do I seem to hate him so very much?”

“It was actually Miss Weasley who came up with a theory on that end,” Minerva said. “She thought that the blade that Voldemort used was laced with something.”

Severus blinked. “Like a poison?”

“Perhaps, but Miss Weasley thought it could be a curse,” Minerva explained. “She thought that the curse would cause the victim—on the off-chance that they somehow managed to survive the attack against them—to feel a deep-seeded resentment towards the person they loved the most, akin to hatred.”

Severus was shocked at the youngest Weasley’s astuteness. “Well, it certainly isn’t so far-fetched to come to that conclusion,” he said softly. “Considering the notion as well that the Dark Lord himself was incapable of love, so allowing someone who had survived an attack by him, meant to result in death, to live a life without the person they cherish the most...”

“Perhaps you must go and see Harry now,” Minerva suggested.

Severus shook his head. “No,” he said softly. “No. I cannot face Harry until I find a solution for this curse placed upon me.”

“What do you suggest?” Minerva asked.

Severus sighed. “Apart from standard potions antidotes, a new spell, perhaps,” he said, not looking forward to the research part of the task, just the resolution.

. . .

Severus paced the newly-renovated living room of Spinner’s End; he had looked over all of the potion’s books that Minerva had permitted him to take out of the Hogwarts Library, along with those in his personal collection. However, such a quest had proved fruitless, and Severus collapsed in his armchair beside the fireplace, exhausted from researching all day. He stared out the window at the sun setting, followed by the stars in the sky, and then the light of dawn, and still had no direct solution.

He trudged into the kitchen then for his morning cup of coffee; running on no sleep was not alien to Severus, who frequently never slept at Spinner’s End, due to the constant arguments his mother and father had. Shaking his head at past history, he fumbled around, looking for a mug for his coffee, and finally managed to find one. However, he lost his grip on it, and it shattered upon the kitchen floor.

“Fuck,” he muttered, pulling out his wand. “ _Reparo_ ,” he said, dragging his hands through his hair as the mug repaired itself, before he levitated it back onto the counter. Severus’s breath caught then, and he shook his head at the simplicity of it all. “Could that really be it?” came his whisper then. A gasp entered his throat then, remembering the word that his mother had used as a term of endearment for him as a child—Animus, which roughly translated into the heart or the soul in Latin. “Merlin,” Severus whispered.

The coffee forgotten, Severus ran through to the living room, casting a cursory cleaning spell on himself, before he opened the Floo Network. Hesitating, he was quite sure that Potter—Harry—may have blocked his access, but there was no harm in trying before resorting to Apparating. He tossed the powder into the flames before he said, “Number Twelve Grimmauld Place”, and attempted to step though, and, to his relief, his access was granted.

Severus stepped through the flames and into the parlor of the Black—now Potter—family home, the silvery light of dawn being replaced by a pale pink. Severus looked around the room, and nearly drew back at the sight of that old and withered-looking house-elf, Kreacher, walking into the room from the kitchen, and stared up at the wizard.

“Ah, Master Harry’s love,” Kreacher said, looking warily up at him, and Severus deduced that he was protective of Harry, looked warily up at him. “Shall Kreacher summon Master Harry?”

“No, thank you,” Severus managed to say. “Please, might I go and see him?”

Kreacher hesitated. “Very well, Master Snapey,” he said, gesturing up the stairs. “Master Harry is upstairs in the nursery with Mistress Lily.”

Severus’s heart clenched at the direct mention of his daughter, but nevertheless nodded to the house-elf. “Thank you,” he said. Moving past the being, he made his way up the staircase, and heard Harry’s soft voice in one of the rooms at the top of the stairs.

Stepping closer, he saw the room itself, which he believed used to belong to Regulus, was now swathed in pinks and lavenders; Harry stood in the center of the room, holding a bundle in his arms before a cream-colored crib. As he stepped closer still, Harry raised his green eyes at the squeak upon the floorboards, and immediately drew Lily back and away from him, kissing her forehead and setting her into the crib softly, before walking out of the nursery and shutting the door quickly behind him.

“How may I help you?” he asked, his tone flat.

Severus swallowed then; he deserved all of that and more. “I met with Minerva at Hogwarts the day before yesterday,” he said, and Harry raised his eyebrows slightly at that. “She showed me the memory of the night that Voldemort attacked me.”

Harry crossed his arms. “About bloody time you saw it,” he said, but the fire quickly dissipated from within him, and Severus hated to see how truly defeated he looked. “Well, what are you doing here, then, Severus?” he asked in a clipped tone.

Severus sighed. “She also told me Miss Weasley’s theory that Voldemort’s blade was laced with a curse of some kind, rendering me unable to love you as I once did,” he said quickly, and Harry visibly flushed then.

Harry shuffled from foot to foot, obviously attempting to formulate a reply. “Well, it was bound to happen. You getting the information, I mean...”

Severus nodded. “Apart from potions, I am afraid that I didn’t readily know how to cure it,” he went on, and Harry looked shocked then.

“You wish to clear it?”

“Clearly, I wasn’t putting on a front when I claimed to love you. I was being my truest self, more true than I had allowed myself to be in a long time,” Severus said softly. “If this is not really who I am,” he went on, touching his chest, “then I can no longer live like this. You saved my life that night so as I could live a life, and whether you still wish it to be with you or not, I don’t want to walk around cursed forever.”

Harry blinked. “You would think, even after this cursed hell, that I wouldn’t want a life with you, Severus?” he asked, his voice shaking. “I could never not a life with you. I’ve loved you as much then as I do now—more so, even, now that we have Lily,” he said, and Severus felt himself warm then at Harry mentioning their daughter. “But, before I have you meet her, we’ll have to lift the curse,” he said diplomatically.

Severus nodded. “Of course. I wish to be myself again.”

Harry sighed, considering it. “You said that potions wouldn’t work?”

Severus worried his lower lip. “I’m afraid not. I consulted all the brewing manuals I had, plus some other books not in my personal collection, inside the Hogwarts Library, that Minerva considerately allowed me to borrow,” he explained. “I even managed to seek out some old potioneers I knew in my youth, but even they had no solution for the situation in which I’ve currently found myself in. After exhausting that means, I was initially afraid that I’d live with this curse forever.”

Harry shook his head. “Then, we won’t give up,” he replied, wanting to clutch at Severus’s hands in encouragement, but didn’t want to overstep. “We’ll consult everyone, all the way up to the Ministry of Magic, if we have to. Perhaps one of the Death Eaters that Ron caught in his Auror Division can be offered a potential plea bargain, to see if they know anything, or maybe the Malfoys can—”

“Harry, Harry,” Severus said, his tone gentle as he interrupted the young man’s passion. “I may have already figured out a solution.”

Harry flushed again, nodding; of course he had. “Right,” he said, hating that he’d automatically resorted to babbling. “So, what’s this solution you may have figured out?”

“A spell,” he said, and Harry cocked an eyebrow. “A new spell.”

“A new spell?” he said, shaking his head at the man he loved. “Well, why didn’t you say all that before?! Cast it! Cast it now! I want you back!”

Severus smiled down at him, feeling lighter than he had in quite a long time. “In order for it to work, Harry, I think you must be the one to cast it.”

Harry blinked. “Me? But why?”

“Because you were the very thing that the Dark Lord wished to take from me,” Severus replied simply. “Perhaps if you are to cast it, my mind would then seek to trust you, and, with trust, comes love, and perhaps then, the love will return.”

Harry sighed. “Well, all right,” he said, removing his wand from his pocket and holding it in a steady manner. “What is the incantation, then?”

“I believe it to be _Animus Reparo_ ,” Severus replied. “Think of it as a repairing of my heart and soul, which, it seems, belonged to you in the first place.”

Harry nodded then, stepping closer and leveling himself so that his wand was positioned right at Severus’s heart. “I’ll try,” he said, considering all their good times together, and about how their hopes and plans had been dashed from the moment Voldemort had slashed his throat. “ _Animus Reparo_ ,” Harry said, his voice filled with passion, and a bright white light came forth from his wand, beaming right into Severus’s heart.

Severus stiffened for a moment, and the cloudiness from his eyes seemed to slowly but surely evaporate, and his unsure stance was replaced by the tall one Harry had been used to patrolling the hallways of Hogwarts. He shut his eyes and shook his head in an effort to clear it, before the black orbs opened and lowered slightly, until they came to rest upon Harry. He swallowed then before he stepped forward without hesitation, yanking Harry quickly into his arms and covering his mouth with his.

“Severus,” Harry moaned, feeling his body responding automatically to his lover, as he wrapped his arms around him, never wanting to let him go.

“You broke the spell,” Severus whispered, pulling back and gazing into Harry’s eyes, that carefree look returning to his features, and Harry realized, for the first time, how much he had missed that expression. “You’re brilliant.”

“You’re the one who came up with it,” Harry joked, feeling secure in Severus’s arms. “How do you feel? Are you all right?”

Severus smiled down at Harry and nodded. “More than all right,” he assured him. He hesitated for a moment, before yanking Harry back towards him, and devouring his mouth, causing Harry to moan beneath him. “Merlin, I love you so much,” he whispered.

“I love you, Severus,” Harry said, arching himself along his lover’s body. “Merlin, I want you to take me to bed right now...”

“What’s stopping you?” Severus asked with a chuckle.

Harry laughed, gently pushing Severus back, but felt his heart thundering when his lover kept his hands on him. “Our daughter is stopping me, love,” he replied, and Severus immediately looked past him and towards the door of the nursery. “Would you like to meet her?” he asked Severus gently then. “Would you like to meet Lily?”

“More than anything,” Severus replied.

Harry took Severus’s hand then and slowly opened the nursery door, whereupon he let it go and stepped towards the crib, before he leaned down and gathered Lily carefully in his arms. “And here we are, my love,” he said softly to her, and crossed over to Severus. “Severus, I’d like you to formally meet Lily Luna Potter.”

Severus softened immediately at the sight of his daughter in the arms of the love of his life, and gently took her from him. “Hello, Lily,” he said.

Lily’s eyes slowly opened at the smoothness at her other father’s voice, and merely stared up at him for a moment. However, the uncertainty in her expression quickly evaporated, and Lily gave him a smile that would stay with Severus for years to come.

“What do you think of her?” Harry asked.

Severus leaned down and kissed Lily’s head before he looked up at Harry. “She is beautiful and so utterly perfect, Harry,” he whispered.

Harry felt his eyes fill with tears then. “I couldn’t agree more,” he replied, and hesitated for a moment, knowing he had to ask it. “Are you still leaving?”

“What?”

“England. You wouldn’t just go, would you?”

Severus sighed, moving past Harry and gently returning their daughter to her crib. “I can’t go anymore, Harry,” he replied as the pair of them left the nursery. “I’ve got you back, and now we have Lily together. I don’t want to be without either of you again.”

Harry smiled slowly, shutting the door behind him. “You’re sure?”

Severus turned around in the hallway and smiled back at him. “Of course. I mean... This won’t end, will it?”

Harry blinked. “What makes you think it will?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps now that the war is over, and there’s Lily to consider...”

Harry watched as Severus deliberately cut himself off. “What do you mean?”

“Well, would you even want to be with someone so old?” he asked.

Harry laughed. “I should be asking you whether or not you would even want to be with someone so young,” he replied.

“I love you,” Severus said simply. “I never wouldn’t want to be with you.”

“I love you, too,” Harry said, pulling himself into Severus’s arms, and never feeling happier than he did in that moment, especially when Severus yanked him closer than ever. “And the same goes for me,” he told him, and a gasp left his throat as Severus sought his lips again and, before he could stop himself, dragged Severus off to his bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the boys are back together!
> 
> But what will happen, now that they seem to have everything they might want?
> 
> The next two chapters - plus the epilogue - will complete the tale of "Evermore".


	13. Torment, Calm, and Hurt Me

Harry rolled over in the bed of the master bedroom at Grimmauld Place; within hours of Lily’s birth, he’d decided that it was high time he moved from Sirius’s bedroom and into the master suite, as befitted him as the head of the House of Black, and so he had had that bedroom when Severus had come to call. He smiled at the sight of Severus, his raven locks spilling onto the pillow beside him, in a dead sleep, and felt warm and complete inside, knowing that their daughter slept in Regulus Black’s bedroom, not far from them. He bit his lip then, not wanting to wake Severus, but always wanting to take advantage of the chance presented to him, and got on his knees for a moment before ducking beneath the duvet that covered them both.

Harry swallowed then at what lay between the legs of the man he loved, and slowly parted them so as he had better access. Crawling closer, he gently took ahold of the older man’s phallus and began caressing it, and feeling Severus stiffening above him only sweetened the deal as he lowered his mouth onto it, tasting it, and finding that it was better than any treacle tart he’d ever eaten in his life. He did his best not to chuckle around it as Severus moaned above him, but a slight gasp did escape his throat as he felt Severus’s hands carding through his hair and caressing his scalp in a moment of pure tenderness.

“Harry,” Severus moaned, stiffening. “Harry...”

Harry said nothing, and continued to work, knowing full well that Lily could wake up screaming for them at any moment, and wanted this man to know just how much he meant to him before that happened. As he worked with his mouth, he moved faster and faster, when finally he was yanked off from his former professor and brought back upwards, to the point where he was staring at Severus in a moment of confusion. However, Severus pulled him towards him and kissed him, tasting him, and Harry let out a moan at the wanton behavior.

“You feel so good,” Severus whispered between kisses, running his hands all over Harry’s skin, as the younger man arched his back above him, a second moan escaping from that wicked mouth of his. Severus felt himself twitching below Harry; he’d not permitted him to finish the assault on his erect member, as the thought of coming into Harry’s arse that morning was just too delicious to pass up. He grabbed ahold of Harry’s hips then, and Harry let out a squeak of surprise as Severus gently pulled him downwards and onto his hardness, and Harry’s squeak quickly turned into a moan as he arched his back and hips, settling readily atop the love of his life.

“Severus,” Harry gasped, sitting fully upright then, dragging his hands through his hair as his lover dragged his own hands up and down the younger man’s body; he was plenty stretched from the evening before, and the shivers of delight which passed through him at being filled again so quickly was the most amazing sensation he’d ever experienced. Harry moaned as Severus took ahold of his hips, moving them up and down in an erratic motion, to the point where Harry’s own member sprang upwards, and Harry felt it spasming, wanting desperately for a release, as much as his lover did.

Severus saw his lover’s beautiful cock spring to attention, and felt himself clench automatically at the notion that it had literally offered itself up to him. Creating a path with his hand down his lover’s front, he reached out then and cupped Harry’s balls for a moment before wrapping his hand around the beautiful member, and nearly came from the gasp and groan which escaped from Harry’s lips in quick succession, once his long fingers wrapped around it. Severus licked his lips, wanting to put Harry into his mouth, but since his lover was riding him, faster and faster, there was no way to do so, so his hand would have to suffice.

Severus felt an inadvertent gasp escape his own lips as Harry’s hips moved faster than ever, and his eyes rolled back in his head at the notion of what he’d been missing these last several months, and his heart clenched at the notion of finding it again. However, Severus knew that things couldn’t stay as they were; for the past week and a half, he and Harry had been walking on eggshells, deliberately not discussing the future, almost as if it scared them to think about it. And the thought of losing Harry again was too much to bear, but Severus felt as if he didn’t deserve him, and even though he’d been under the influence of the curse, he felt as if Harry had forgiven him too easily for the hell he’d put him through while he’d been at school.

“Severus!” Harry screamed then, coming undone above him, his entire body going stiff as a keening sound came forth from that beautiful mouth of his, which was just enough to send Severus over the edge himself, and he fell, collapsing above his lover and just holding him. “I love you so much,” he whispered against his skin, letting out a contented sigh as Severus’s arms came up and around him.

“Harry...”

“Hmmm?” Harry asked, the sound muffled.

“We have to talk.”

Harry stiffened at the words, putting his hands on either side of Severus, so as he could prop himself up and look into his lover’s eyes. “What? What are you on about?” he asked, the fear apparent in his tone.

Severus swallowed; he hadn’t meant to upset him, or to ruin the beautiful moment that they’d successfully created, but he also knew if he didn’t get what he had to say off his chest, he may never have the courage to do so again. “We can’t go on like this.”

The light in Harry’s eyes only intensified then, as the worry never left his tone. “What do you mean, ‘talk about this’ and ‘can’t go on like this’? What’s there to talk about? We’re in love, and together, raising our daughter...”

“A daughter we didn’t plan for.”

Harry pushed himself off of Severus then, putting as much distance between them as he could before yanking up the duvet and covering himself with it. “Just say it,” he said, his tone bitter, as he made it a point not to look at him. “If you don’t want this—this life, these circumstances, with me, and our daughter—then you need to tell me. Stop looking for excuses and man up. I thought we turned a page once the curse was broken, but you’re still keeping shit from me.”

“Harry...”

“No!” Harry shouted, his voice breaking slightly as he turned to look at Severus. “I had to access your memories when you were incapacitated, so you yourself never informed me directly what they were. You kept these things from me—me having to die, me being a Horcrux, you actually falling for me long before you told me or acted on your feelings—and for what? For self-preservation? For you keeping your word to Dumbledore?”

Severus swallowed. “Look, Harry, I don’t want...”

“Don’t want what?” Harry whispered, his voice shaking. “This?!” he spat, touching his chest, a motion that Severus himself had done in the early days of their romance, when everything had to be kept hidden for their own safety. “You lost your chance to make me forget from the moment you kissed me outside of that goddamned Christmas party, Severus. I was able to block your Memory Charm, and my recent Auror training taught me how to block a hell of a lot more than that, I assure you. I could even block my feelings, if I had a mind to, which would certainly make many things easier, but now that I’ve got Lily, it’d be fucking depressing.” He hesitated for a moment. “Notice that I said _I’d_ gotten Lily; not us, but I. You haven’t held her once since that first day, and you never want to help feed her, or change her, or play with her. Are you keeping your distance because you don’t want her to get attached, or you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I know that shit’s different with you,” Harry went on, his tone clipped. “Say it. If you never wanted this life—with me, our daughter—then fucking say it. I can take it; if it’s the truth, I can take it. It’ll hurt like hell if it’s not what I want, but I’d rather be hurt by your truth than feel doubly betrayed by a filthy lie. Tell me, Severus. Do you want to be here, with me, with our daughter? If you don’t...” Harry almost couldn’t form the words, but he knew that he had to put them out there. “If you don’t want to be here, then you need to fucking tell me. Fucking tell me the truth, Severus Snape, even if it’ll break my heart all over again.”

Severus sighed, pushing himself out of the bed without a word. He kept his back to Harry as he casted a wordless cleaning spell, and summoned his clothes back onto his body. Then, without a word, he walked towards the fireplace, grabbing a handful of powder and, with purpose, tossed it into the flames. The words, “Spinner’s End” came out from those lips of his, and the flames turned green as he stepped into them without looking back.

Harry was about to shout for him, to demand that he man up and return and settle this once and for all, but he couldn’t. He got out of bed then, summoning his own clothes and dashed towards the flames, already orange and back in the grate, and screamed for Severus to answer his attempt to fire-call him. However, Harry found the network to Spinner’s End in Cokeworth blocked, and something hitched from inside him then as he felt the tears enter his eyes as he struggled to contain his anger, but he suddenly felt at a loss.

He let out a frustrated scream as he slammed his fists into the fireplace then, the only thing calling him back down to this wretched earth were Lily’s screams, and he fled from his bedroom and into hers. As he gathered up his daughter to his chest, soothing her, he did his best to calm himself as well, but that familiar ache returned to his heart then as he stared down at Lily, and the notion that Severus Snape was staring up at him again, and he felt as if things would never manage to be fully resolved.

. . .

“He just left,” Harry sobbed a half hour later, when Ron and Hermione came over to visit him and Lily before they left for work. “I didn’t know what else to say, or to do. Everything was perfect,” he blubbered, thanking Merlin that Kreacher was seeing to Lily upstairs; he didn’t want to have his daughter seeing him like this. “We were...you know,” he said, gesturing with his hands to indicate what had gone on, while Hermione nodded compassionately, and Ron looked away, turning red straight to his ears with a combination of awkwardness and embarrassment. “It was all lovely, like we hadn’t even had to deal with the curse in the first place. But then...”

“What, Harry?” Hermione asked him gently. “What happened?”

Harry swallowed, squaring his shoulders. “I simply asked him what the future held for the two of us, you know?” he said.

“Of course, Harry,” Hermione said, putting an arm around his shoulders. “It’s to be expected, now that Lily is in the picture.”

“Exactly! I mean, it’s really not just me anymore. We’ve both got Lily to consider, and now that we’re both fathers, we can’t just go about this the wrong way.”

“Good on you, mate,” Ron said, and Harry looked up at him, surprised that Ron was at least making an effort to be supportive. “Using that Gryffindor courage like that. Snape needs to step up and admit what’s going on in his head.”

“Thanks for not calling him a ‘git’, Ron,” Harry said quietly.

Ron sighed and shook his head. “No promises, especially after today,” he muttered.

“Then what happened, Harry?” Hermione asked, after fixing her husband with an annoyed expression, before turning back to Harry.

“It escalated,” Harry said softly. “I... I didn’t mean for it to. I’m just...” He cut himself off then, going over and over their conversation in his mind. “I know we can’t go on like this—even Severus said so. But I lashed out, like I always do, and I know I shouldn’t, but I’m so scared of losing him,” he said quickly, really not wanting to hear Hermione telling him that it was all his fault. “I know that Severus isn’t really keen on opening up to people, but I’m tired of us tiptoeing around one another. I wanted a straight answer, and it looks like I’m not going to get that, seeing as he fled to his childhood home, filled with bad memories, and, given that he’d rather be there than here, with me and our daughter, I can’t help but think...”

“Harry, it’s not your fault,” Ron told him gently, and Harry sighed, not feeling comforted in the slightest, although he found he was grateful for Ron’s support. “Look, I’m not going to pretend I understand the two of you together...”

Harry scoffed, trying to get the tears out of his eyes. “Thanks, Ron.”

“But there’s definitely something between the two of you... Even though, come to think of it, it’s not like Hermione and I have ever seen the two of you...”

“Really, Ron?!” Hermione said, whipping around to face her husband.

“Right. Sorry,” he said, clearing his throat, and Harry tried not to laugh at his best mate’s apparent awkwardness. “Aside from this not making any sense—the git tortured you during school, mate—there’s something there.”

“Not like he was as bad as Umbridge,” Harry muttered.

“Nobody’s as bad as her,” Ron said, practically spitting with rage before he somehow managed to calm himself again. “But, mate, you have to know, one way or the other, if he’s actually going to step up; not just with Lily, but you, too.”

Hermione sighed, pursing her lips. “Is it true what you accused him of?” she asked Harry in a soft voice, and he turned to look at her. “Does he really not hold her, or help feed her, or even play with her? I mean, does he even interact with her at all?”

Harry shrugged. “Not really. He’ll smile at her, and talk about her, but never directly to her. I just wish I knew what was wrong. Maybe if he opened up to me...”

Ron sighed. “Wouldn’t bet on it now, mate, at least not until he’s cooled off. Give him some time, and let him come back to you.”

“But...”

“What is it, Harry?” Hermione asked.

Harry slowly raised his eyes to hers, suddenly aware that the tears had escaped from his eyes again, and he felt the fear swimming completely throughout his body now. “What... What if he doesn’t come back to me?” he whispered then, sensing his voice trembling with every word he spoke, the despair finally taking over completely.

. . .

Harry wrapped Lily up in a new autumn blanket that Molly had sent along for her via owl post, before making his way downstairs to the main Floo Network in Grimmauld Place. It had been approximately fifteen days since his argument with Severus, and his lover had remained silent throughout that time, and Harry only bothered to send Dulcis to him three times before he’d given up. It was time, he decided, for Severus to make the next move, and he was quite through waiting around to do it himself, thank you very much.

Harry smiled down at his daughter, who gurgled in response, and kissed her forehead as he made his way into the living room with her. He approached the fireplace and gathered up a bit of Floo Powder into his hand, before tossing it into the orange flames, which quickly sparked green as he stepped forward. “The Burrow!” he called, and the flames swallowed up both him and Lily, before he was able to step through into the living room in Devon.

“Harry, dear!” Molly said, bustling forward and kissing him on the cheek, before promptly taking Lily from his arms. “Oh, what a delight you are, my darling!” she cried out, and Harry wasn’t surprised when Lily immediately settled in Molly’s arms. “Come on through, now, Harry,” Molly called over her shoulder. “The table’s been set, and everyone’s arriving for the Halloween dinner.”

Harry hesitated for a moment, lingering a bit by the fireplace, and felt relieved when Ron and Hermione promptly exited the kitchen and came towards him. Harry accepted Hermione’s immediate embrace, and Ron’s as well, and got a good look at his best friends. “Look at you, Hermione!” Harry said, gasping at how lovely she looked. “How much longer are the doctors telling you now?”

“Less than two months ‘till Rose is here,” she said, and let out a slight squeak as Ron pulled her into his arms and wrapped her in them. “Ronald, as you can see, is very pleased with himself in that regard.”

“Ron, you’ll never understand what it’s like carrying a child,” Harry reprimanded him with a laugh. “Be gentle with her.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “I know that Lily is yours, mate, but I sometimes forget that you were the one who actually...”

Hermione cleared her throat, fixing Ron with a look, and he promptly stopped talking. “Well, I think she’s looking exceptional, Harry,” Hermione said, turning back to look at him. “Molly made that blanket, didn’t she?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah. She sent it over with an owl a couple weeks ago, along with the invitation to dinner tonight.”

“When do you get to come back to work with us, mate?” Ron asked.

“The ministry gave me until the first of the year,” Harry replied with a shrug. “I’ve already started looking at reports again. Gives me something to do when Lily’s napping or I’m tired of cleaning out various rooms at Grimmauld.”

“How are the renovations coming?” Hermione wanted to know.

Harry sighed. “Well, thanks,” he replied. “I’ve started on Sirius’s old bedroom, cleaning and clearing out a lot of things in there. It’ll serve as a good guest room, I think, so if you and Ron ever want to stay over...”

“We will, mate,” Ron assured him with a smile.

“Harry!” came a shout from the kitchen as Ginny bounded forward, pulling a laughing Dean behind her. She let Dean go after a moment and flung her arms around him, kissing him good-naturedly on the cheek. “Mum is absolutely besotted with Lily,” she gushed, pulling back and leaning into Dean. “She’s absolutely gorgeous.”

Harry smiled. “Thanks, Ginny.” He turned and looked at Dean, who was beaming. “And how are you, Dean?” he asked, shaking his hand.

Dean accepted the handshake and clapped Harry gently on the shoulder. “Good, thanks. I’m fighting the good fight with Hermione and Draco, and Gin and I say our vows in less than nine months. Suffice it to say, I’m a happy man.”

Harry nodded. “Glad to hear it.”

Dean hesitated for a moment before Ginny squeezed his hand, and he spoke again. “I’ve already asked Ron, and he’s said yes. But, would you be one of my Groomsmen, Harry, when Ginny and I get married?”

Harry blinked, surprised. “Yeah, of course, Dean,” he replied.

Ginny hesitated for a moment before she spoke as well. “Hermione’s agreed to be my Matron of Honor,” she said softly, “and she and Ron have agreed that Rose can be my Flower Girl—of course, Hermione will be holding her during the duration of the ceremony,” Ginny went on. “I was wondering if you would mind if Lily was our other Flower Girl.”

Harry grinned at that. “Yeah, of course, Gin,” he told her. “I’m sure Lily would love it. Then again, she adores being held,” he said with a laugh.

“She’s less than a month old, mate,” Ron replied. “What else does she know, really?”

Hermione swatted Ron on the arm then, rolling her eyes. “There’s always a time and a place for your jokes, Ronald,” she said, shaking her head.

“I like his jokes,” Harry said quietly, and Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Dean all turned around to look at him. “Makes me think that things are normal. It’s an illusion, really, I know,” he put in, and forced a smile onto his face. “I mean, I know now that nothing’s normal—next to nothing, anyway. The only thing I can count on is our circle of friends, this family that we’re all in together, my beautiful daughter, and that Voldemort’s death,” he said, and allowed himself to say the name without fear.

“That’s not all, Harry,” Ginny said quietly.

Harry sighed. “Yeah, Gin. It is.”

“What do you mean?” Dean asked. “What’s going on?”

“Lotta shit, Dean,” Harry replied, hunching his shoulders. “I don’t want to admit it, but I think Severus and I called it quits.”

“Harry,” Hermione said, her tone gentle, “Ron and I already mentioned to everyone that you didn’t want to talk about...”

“It’s fine, ‘Mione, really,” he said, cutting her off, his tone just as gentle as hers had been. “All I know is that everything’s up in the air at this point.”

“He knows you love him, doesn’t he, mate?” Ron whispered.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve told him I love him,” he said, his voice soft. “I told him that as many times as I could. Hell, even when he was cursed to hate me, I told him. Either he doesn’t believe that it’s true, or...”

“Or...? What, Harry?” Ginny asked.

Harry turned and locked his eyes with hers. “Or he doesn’t love me back, or even want me anymore, and that’s all there is to it,” he said, the thought that had plagued him constantly since Severus had left Grimmauld Place, and had slowly but surely eaten away at him since then.

. . .

The rain wasn’t necessarily an homage to Harry’s thoughts as he sat up late in the living room at Grimmauld Place. Lily had been put to bed three and a half hours previously, and now it was going on eleven o’clock, and she had yet to stir, although Harry knew that Kreacher was more than willing to look in on her, now that he was working at the ministry again. He was looking into notes about a potential spotting of Augustus Rookwood somewhere in Ireland, and about how he could’ve gone into hiding via the Imperius Curse.

Harry sighed, looking up at the mantle clock, and knew that he should be getting to bed soon anyway. However, Kingsley expected his thoughts on the report by the end of the week, and, given that Severus had been non-responsive towards communication with himself or with their daughter, Harry was burning the candle on both ends. Given that he had to write a response to the report, and parent Lily on his own, and continue the renovations on Grimmauld Place, he was quickly becoming exhausted, but he wouldn’t change a thing.

Well, correction; Harry would change one thing about his circumstances. Although he loved his job, his daughter, and his home—as well as renovating it—he knew that the missing piece in his life, in his heart, belonged to none other than Severus Snape. The fact that the man had been so evasive and elusive of late pained him; not just for his sake, but for Lily’s as well. The notion that Lily could grow up without her other father pained him, because Harry knew exactly what it was like to grow up without one. However, Harry also lacked a mother, and had been forced to live with the remnants of her family, and what a hellish existence that had proven to be, when he himself had been forbidden to fight back, or to resist.

The Floo flared then, and Harry made no move to set the reports aside, for he initially thought it would be Ron, who had trouble sleeping these days, given that the clock was ticking on him becoming a father. Harry smirked at the notion that he and his best mate would be fathers together, and, at that thought, he knew that, Severus in his life or not, that things would prove to be much easier. It was when he didn’t hear Ron’s familiar voice, asking if Kreacher had left him anything in the kitchen, that Harry looked up, and found himself flushing pink at the sight of Severus standing there.

Harry swallowed then, vanishing the reports the Black family safe upstairs, where he kept all the important paperwork, and got to his feet. “How may I help you, Severus?” he asked.

Severus sighed. “I believe I owe you an explanation for my absence.”

Harry gritted his teeth; that was the least Severus owed him, but he would take what he could get from this man. “Very well,” he replied. “You may tell me.”

“Are you familiar with the name David Corby?”

Harry felt his eyebrows raise for a moment; indeed, Pureblood and handsome David Corby was a very talented potioneer, and, given that Horace Slughorn had elected to retire at the end of the last school year, Professor McGonagall had been on the hunt for a new potions professor. Harry had heard through the grapevine that David Corby—an Irishman man in his mid-forties—had been selected. Corby had been traveling around Finland’s forests for the past two decades, looking for the rarest potion ingredients, some even rumored to just be myth, and his personal journal on his experiences had been published the summer before to rave reviews, and was entitled _Proselytizing with Potions_. Perhaps, Harry mused, the reason for Severus’s absence was that he and Corby had...

“Yes, I am familiar with Corby,” Harry replied, realizing just how clipped his tone was, but decided to let it lie. “What does he have to do with your absence?”

“Black Cat Flu, I’m afraid,” Severus replied, and Harry raised his eyebrows again. “Apparently, Corby ingested something in one of Finland’s forests over the summer, that saw fit not to react to his body until a week before he began teaching. Corby was able to keep the symptoms at bay until the twentieth of October, when he suddenly collapsed mid-lesson.”

Harry blinked. “I am sorry to hear that.” He hesitated for a moment, rolling back onto the balls of his feet. “What does this have to do with you?”

“Minerva sent me an owl,” Severus explained, “asking me to return to Hogwarts for the duration of Corby’s illness, and I accepted.”

Harry nodded. “I see. And I assume Madam Pomfrey or St. Mungo’s are taking care of Corby in the interim?”

“St. Mungo’s,” Severus said, and Harry nodded again. “The doctors there, while they’ve managed to get a handle on Corby’s illness—to the point where he’ll live for a time, and will be unable to spread the disease itself—say that it would be unwise for him to return to teaching children, given his frailty.”

Harry swallowed. “How long has he got?”

“They said it would be lucky if Corby made it another five years. Shame, really,” Severus said, and Harry detected sadness in his expression and tone.

Harry gritted his teeth again. “So, that is why you were away?” he very nearly spat at the man he loved, and Severus’s black eyes locked onto his. “I’m surprised you don’t have the disease yourself, then, Severus.”

Severus blinked. “Just what are you insinuating?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Oh, come off it! You _made_ us write parchment rolls on Corby far longer than any other topic during your stint as potions master while I was at Hogwarts!”

Severus looked astounded. “He is very talented and renowned in the field, Harry,” he said, his tone perfectly level. “Of course you would have written about him. Hell, even Slughorn had a positive word—many positive words, in fact—to say about him. And Corby was a Ravenclaw for Salazar’s sake!”

“That’s not fair, and you know it,” Harry shot back. “Slughorn may have been a Slytherin, but he didn’t care what house you were in—not like you.”

“At least I didn’t hop around from place to place with photographs of my favorite students in a bag and show them off for my new favorites to see, or demand favors from them for giving them high marks whilst they were under my teaching!”

“No,” Harry agreed, his tone bitter. “But that’s all because the world had to know that you couldn’t have any favorites, because of your fucking Death Eater status. Sure, you must’ve tolerated your Slytherins on some level—Draco for one, and perhaps his little cronies, but I don’t see how the latter can ever reform themselves; Draco is the exception. But you,” Harry went on, his heartbeat quickening as Severus took a step closer to him, “you never allowed yourself to have any friends. Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall, sure, but you never allowed yourself the luxury of allowing yourself love and comfort from those who really think you mean something to them.”

“Harry...”

Harry ignored him. “Then, when you have the opportunity for a family placed on a fucking silver platter, you abandon it all for a quick fuck with someone who’s actually competent in potions. I mean, he’s older, he’s got more experience, and he can probably translate the Latin names of plants or something that the potions come from. I’ll bet that’s some sort of turn-on for you, right, when you’re in bed, to have him writhing beneath you, whispering those words like they’re some filthy flirtations?” he asked then, his voice quavering then, as Severus stared down at him. “Not to mention actually having someone in your bed that you deem to be worthy of you...”

“Is that what you think?” Severus whispered.

Harry blinked. “It’s obvious, isn’t it?”

Severus swallowed. “You think I left because I believe you to be unworthy of me?” he asked him then, shaking his head. “Oh, for Merlin’s sake... If anything, Harry, it is I who am unworthy of you,” he said, his voice firm.

Harry shook his head. “I’ve already told you, I don’t care about your past,” he said. “I mean, I know I was no good at potions until I had that book of yours, but that’s only because you left me clues along the way... I’ve been in love with you since I was sixteen-years-old, Severus, and I think I had an attraction for you from the moment that Dumbledore made you give me my very first Occlumency lesson. I couldn’t help it,” Harry said. “You said that you were going to penetrate my mind, and that I had to attempt to resist. Me and my teenage mind...” He scoffed at himself, shaking his head at where his thoughts had gone. “I simply rearranged the words in my mind, but I never thought of resisting. Not you. I couldn’t resist you, and I still can’t, no matter how many times you hurt me...”

“I don’t want to hurt you, Harry.”

Harry sighed. “Then why do you keep doing it?”

Severus shut his eyes then, making no moves to get closer to Harry. “That, I’m afraid, is a very complicated question, with an equally complicated answer.”

Harry bit his lip. “Is there anything going on between you and Corby?”

Severus’s eyes snapped open and he shook his head. “No!” he cried out. “I admire the man for his work only, Harry. We are competitors and colleagues in the field of potions, as anyone would tell you. That is where it ends.”

Harry shook his head right back. “But... But why would you even mention him to me in the first place? You said yourself he was the reason for your absence, and I thought, since you made us do all those essays on him, that you might...”

“Oh. Oh, fuck,” Severus said, stepping forward and yanking Harry into his arms, pressing his lips to his forehead. “I’ve been a fool, and for that, I apologize.”

“That’s a good start,” Harry replied, stepping forward and nestling himself into his arms. “Now, tell me what Corby has to do with your absence.”

Severus pulled back then, but did not make any moves to release Harry. “Minerva contacted me about Corby’s illness,” he explained. “Of course, I was apologetic, but the nature of the call soon turned into a job offer.”

Harry blinked. “A job offer?”

Severus nodded. “Yes. Minerva asked me to return to Hogwarts to reassume my potion as the potions professor and Head of Slytherin House.”

Harry swallowed. “And you’ve accepted?”

“Yes I have,” Severus told him. “That’s why I haven’t been over to see you and Lily. I would’ve written, to tell you where I was, but it seems that that owl of yours thought I was at Spinner’s End this entire time.”

“I assume you’ve returned to your rooms at Hogwarts, then?”

“I have.”

“Then, why didn’t you simply owl me from there?”

Severus sighed. “Corby, for all he’s worth—he is a wonderful writer, and his discoveries have been quite beneficial to the Wizarding World—doesn’t have talents that extend to teaching, I’m afraid.”

Harry blinked. “Godric, he’s not another Lockhart, is he?”

Severus laughed aloud then. “No. His discoveries were real, valid, and his own.”

Harry nodded. “Oh, I see. So, it is his professor skills are...lacking?”

“That’s putting it politely,” Severus replied, carding his long, tapered fingers through Harry’s hair, permitting his fingertips to rest upon his lover’s scar for a moment, and briefly permitted himself to wonder where they would all be, were it not for Tom Riddle. “The first-years don’t even know how to brew a simple Pepper-Up Potion.”

Harry blinked. “They don’t?”

“No. The steam came out the drinker’s nose instead of the ears.”

Now, it was Harry’s turn to laugh. “Oh, dear. I hope everyone was all right.”

“Yes, they’re all fine, now that they’re under my tutelage again.”

Harry hesitated for a moment. “And...you’re being nice?”

Severus pursed his lips. “I will not allow students to play games in my classroom, as Filius does, but I am not simply taking away house points for someone being a Gryffindor.”

Harry hesitated one last time. “Severus?”

“Yes?”

Harry swallowed. “Do you want this? Us?”

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t.”

Harry nodded. “Well, then, I think that you and I have a lot to work out between the two of us, and I hope we can do so in the near future.”

Severus sighed. “I’m sorry. About everything. I...”

Harry stood on his tones and gently kissed Severus. “We don’t have to discuss it tonight. But I do think you should return to Hogwarts. Don’t you have papers to grade?”

Severus grinned. “I’m afraid so.”

Harry nodded. “Go, then. We’ll speak more later.”

“Will we?”

Harry slowly permitted a smile to come onto his lips. “Yes, Severus. We will.”

. . .

Harry had been touching his cheek on and off since Thanksgiving, when Charlie Weasley had unexpectedly kissed him and made his interests known. Harry’s quick reply that he was in love with someone else was not lost on Ron’s second-eldest brother, but Charlie’s next words that he wouldn’t give up on Harry threw him completely. Harry had been pacing non-stop since that night—other than the moments when he was reading reports for Kingsley, listening to Kreacher about renovations, or spending time with Lily—as he replayed the interaction in his head, and knew he had to tell Severus about it.

Severus had been at the Burrow for Thanksgiving; however, he had spent most of it holding onto Lily, showing the world his efforts to become a better father. Lily, in turn absolutely adored Severus, which was definitely a plus in the grand scheme of things, and the entire Weasley family had been welcoming to him. For Harry’s part, however, he just tried to get through the evening without spilling the beans before, during, or after the meal. Perhaps, he reasoned, if it had happened after the meal—when wine and Firewhiskey had been passed around—Harry could’ve excused the behavior somewhat, but Charlie was as sober as a judge, and the groping when nobody else was looking certainly hadn’t improved matters.

Harry whirled around then when the Floo flared, and yet remained right where he stood as Severus stepped into the room, unable to speak.

“You look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” Severus said.

Harry swallowed. “We need to talk.”

Severus’s brows knit together. “What is it?”

Harry sighed; despite the fact that it had been eight days since Charlie’s interest had been expressed, he still hadn’t spoken about it aloud, and had been alone with his thoughts. “I... I need to tell you something.”

“Very well,” Severus said, gesturing with his hand. “Tell me.”

“Someone has expressed an interest in me.”

The potions master shrugged at his statement. “So does more than half of the Wizarding World on a daily basis. What you put in your coffee was this weeks’ _Witch Weekly_ article...”

“No, you don’t understand,” Harry said, cutting him off. “Someone has expressed a serious, _romantic_ interest in me. Someone we both know, and not just an adoring fan.”

Severus blinked. “I see.”

Harry shook his head. “No, I don’t think you do see, Severus,” he said quickly. “It happened on Thanksgiving, when we were all at the Burrow.”

“Who was it, then?”

“Charlie Weasley,” Harry said softly.

“Ah. Handsome man, that Charlie,” Severus said, not letting anything on; in fact, the man sounded as if he was listing off a set of rather unenthralling potion ingredients. “He lives in Romania, however. I do hope you won’t miss England too much... I wonder if Hermione could represent the both of us in a join-custody trial...”

Harry shook his head, hardly believing what he was hearing. “Excuse me?”

“Well, you’ll want to see more of him, I assume, and I’m not about to take Lily completely away from you, Harry,” Severus replied.

“No, Severus, you don’t understand...”

“What isn’t there to understand? Charlie is twenty-six-years-old—much more appropriate an age difference, if I may say so. He’s used to lots of children around, and he seems to like Lily, and our daughter seems to like the Weasley family as a whole...”

“I always told you I didn’t give a fuck about our age difference,” Harry said quickly, close to losing his temper. “What is this really about?”

“Your apparent interest in Charlie Weasley,” Severus continued, his tone perfectly level. “Was this your way of letting me down easy, whilst you managed to sniff out a more-suitable-to-the-public partner?”

Harry gritted his teeth. “I’ve told you more than once how much I’ve despised my own fame. I never asked for it, Severus,” he went on, his voice shaking. “What is it you’re trying to accomplish here? If your attempt is to alienate me, then it won’t fucking work,” he said, the words coming out forcefully as he advanced upon him then, and knew his voice would come out shaking, but he didn’t care. “You know how much I love you, and want you. I told you as much in that memory...”

“Don’t,” Severus said, pulling out of Harry’s grasp. “You merely felt sorry for me in the face of my own death...”

“You didn’t fucking die, you pillock!” Harry screamed, tears threatening to escape from his eyes at the thought of Severus’s death. “What do you want me to do? I could contact _The Profit_ , or _The Quibbler_ , or go directly to Kingsley himself. Everyone out there is clamoring to know who Lily’s other father is; sure, the famous Harry Potter is seen as an anomaly for having the ability to carry a child, on top of everything else... But I need to know what you want here, Severus. Do you want me to proclaim my feelings for you publicly? Say the word, and I’ll do it, if that’s what you want. Just say it.”

“Stop it,” Severus ordered. “I just want this to stop.”

“This being?” Harry whispered, finally lifting his hand so as he could move it between them. “Is this what you want to end, Severus?”

Severus looked away. “Don’t ask me that.”

“I can’t not ask anymore, Severus,” Harry replied, his tone firm as he somehow managed to pull himself together. “I can’t not ask anymore, because I have to know.”

“Have to know what?” Severus nearly snapped.

“How you fucking feel about me,” Harry said, trying his very best not to break down and cry in front of this man. “Do you love me? Do you love Lily? Do you want this life together? Because I need to know, one way or the other.”

“So you can take off with Charlie Weasley if I tell you I don’t want this?”

Harry shook his head. “I have never in my life wanted Charlie Weasley, Severus. I’ve never wanted anyone like I want you, and that’s not going to change.” He hesitated for a moment before permitting himself to speak again. “Can you say the same?”

Severus permitted himself to look at Harry for a moment, before he turned around, calling out for his private rooms at Hogwarts, and departed Grimmauld Place.

Harry sighed then, once Severus had disappeared in a mess of green flames, and felt the tears finally coming down his face. “Well, then,” he said, shaking his head. “I guess I’ve finally got my answer to that question.”

. . .

Severus returned to his private rooms at Hogwarts on the final day of classes before Christmas break was due to begin. He saw the students flitting off after lunch to gather their trunks and head to the train, while he himself anticipated a quiet holiday at the castle. This, of course, was not something he was willing to change, so when Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger-Weasley came via Floo Network into his private quarters, he did his best not to sneer at their invasion of his privacy.

“And how may I help you today?” he asked the pair of them, refraining from calling out the newest member of the Weasley clan on her ‘insufferable know-it-all’ status.

“I’ve had it with you, Snape!” the Weasley boy shouted then, while Granger, who was visibly pregnant, stood back, likely only there because she was a barrister and didn’t want her husband doing anything stupid. “I don’t know what Harry sees in you, but he’s bloody torn up because of your treatment towards him!”

Severus raised an eyebrow at the passion from Weasley; like his parents, brothers, and that sister of his, he had Gryffindor written all over his actions. “I can hardly see why that would be the case, Mr. Weasley, given that he is interested in the elicitations of that brother of yours who loves dragons a little too much.”

Granger’s brown eyes narrowed then, and she nearly elbowed Weasley out of the way as she advanced upon Severus then. “How dare you accuse Harry of such a thing?!” she demanded of him, and Severus wouldn’t have been surprised if she waggled a finger in his face. “Harry has spoken to you of his...interactions with that uncle of his?”

Severus’s lips thinned at the very thought of it. “I am aware.”

“Well, I can’t believe you would accuse Harry of encouraging Charlie’s behavior,” Granger went on, her eyes flashing with rage. “Charlie, according to Harry’s word, was practically _groping_ him throughout the party!”

“My brother Charlie is a great many things, Snape, and perhaps groper can be added to that list now,” Weasley said, his tone bitter. “But Harry is a different kind of person entirely. He would not lie about something like this. And I’m sure that you know him well enough to know how difficult it is for him to discuss such things.”

“I know about his past, Weasley,” Severus said, sneering openly at him. “I was able to visit one of Harry’s dreams, which was a memory of one of the attacks.”

“You visited one of his dreams?” Granger whispered, her mouth falling open.

Severus rolled his eyes. “Yes. What of it?”

“What is it, ‘Mione?” Weasley asked his wife.

“Only someone who feels great love and compassion for another can do such a thing,” she whispered, looking shocked.

Severus rolled his eyes. “An interesting theory, Granger, but I’m afraid it is much too late, given that Potter has made his decision on the matter—”

“You know bloody well whatever you’re thinking isn’t true!” Weasley shouted at him. “Harry has only ever been in love with one person—and I would know! I’m his best friend, and he dated my sister for Merlin’s sake!”

“Exactly. He dated your sister,” Severus said. “You see? Potter is clearly an elusive young man who clearly doesn’t fully know or understand what he wants.”

“What he wants is _you_!” Granger cried out, quickly growing annoyed with him. “Why I don’t know, given your past bullying nature towards him, and your inability to admit that you want him now, forever, now that you have the opportunity... Why can’t you, I wonder?” she asked him then, her brown brows going together at that. “Why can’t you admit that it’s Harry that you want, now and forever? Is it because you can no longer hide the relationship?”

“Are you ashamed of Harry?!” Weasley demanded.

“No, I’m not ashamed of Harry!” Severus yelled. “Not about the relationship, or my feelings for him, anyway...”

“Then, what is it?” Granger asked, her voice more gentle this time. “What could you possibly have to be ashamed about?”

“My past treatment of him,” Severus replied, the words falling out of his lips. “No matter how many times I apologize, I cannot make up for something like that. Not to mention the fact that I’m fucking scared...”

“Scared?” Weasley asked. “Of what?”

“Scared of losing him again,” Severus said softly. “When the curse happened, Harry could’ve just given up, but he didn’t. He still doesn’t want to give up on me...”

“Do you want to give up on him?” Granger asked.

Severus shook his head. “No. I never did.”

“Does Harry know you’re scared?” she asked.

Severus sighed. “I haven’t told him of it, no.”

“You need to tell him,” Granger told him.

Weasley rolled his eyes. “Let’s just hope he listens to a git...”

Granger elbowed him in the ribs. “Ronald!” she cried out, before turning back to Severus. “You need to go there and tell him.”

Severus nodded, smiling at them both. “Thank you,” he said, and hesitated for a moment. “I... I want to tell you congratulations.”

“Little late,” Weasley muttered, and was rewards with another elbow in the ribs.

“Thank you, Professor Snape,” Granger said.

“It’s Severus,” Severus told her.

“Call me Hermione,” she said, and affixed her husband with a look.

“I suppose you can call me Ron, then,” he told his former professor.

Severus nodded. “Thank you, Hermione and Ron, for everything,” he said, before he vanished from his personal rooms at Hogwarts, and Apparated into the cobblestone area just outside Grimmauld Place.

It was raining, but, for once, Severus didn’t mind it as he walked through the black gates. The time was now, to tell Harry that he was sorry, and that he loved and wanted him forever. Just as he was about to knock at the door of number twelve—visible to him because he was a wizard—he heard the unmistakable sound of laughter on the other side. Walking a little to the right and looking through the massive living room window, he saw Harry, sitting on the couch, and, just beside him, was Charlie Weasley, facing the window, with Harry’s back to Severus. The Weasley was laughing about something, and he could detect Harry nodding along to whatever he was prattling on about.

A lump rose in Severus’s throat then; had he been a Gryffindor, he would have marched through the front door, and planted a kiss on Harry’s lips, letting the dragon boy just who Harry Potter belonged to. However, Severus had been sorted into Slytherin, and while Slytherins were known to be cunning, they were not known to be brave. Severus, suddenly aware that he didn’t know where the rain stopped and his tears began, turned away from the window, and vanished into the rainy streets of London.

From inside the living room at Grimmauld Place, Harry painstakingly listened to Charlie’s story about Norberta, Hagrid’s old dragon, whom had been rescued from the giant’s hut and taken to Romania during his first year at Hogwarts. Perhaps, at one time, Harry would have been interested in such a story, but not now, not when the love of his life had disappeared again, and he didn’t know how he would cope. In that moment, he sensed something behind him; however, when he turned around to briefly look out the window during Charlie’s story, he saw nothing but the rainy street beyond, and the seeds of worry began to sprout.


	14. Wasting In My Lonely Tower

Christmas Eve had arrived, and Severus decided it was an opportune time to clean out his private chambers at Hogwarts, with special focus on his potion vials. Now that he was free of first-years and their incompetent potion skills—and he considered putting that lightly—he could do a deep clean upon them before the second term began. Perhaps, Severus reasoned, under his own tutelage for their next six and a half years of school, they could become adept enough at potion making to make Exceeds Expectations on their OWLs.

When Severus had just finished on the final row of vials, it was getting late in the afternoon. The sun had fallen from the sky and was just on the brink of the horizon, and a light snow had just begun to fall on the grounds outside. The fire was burning brightly in the hearth, just beside Severus, thus keeping the room plenty warm that cool Christmas Even, but it was the sudden spark from within it that caught him off-guard. Despite his years of spying, Severus had had to do no such thing in the near year that Voldemort had been killed, so, despite himself, he was a bit lax in keeping up with his surroundings.

“Severus.”

Severus turned at the sound of Minerva’s voice emitting from the hearth; he levitated the now-clean final vial into its proper place and made his way closer, seeing her face in the flames, and gave her a small smile. “Good evening, Minerva.”

“Good evening, Severus,” she said, smiling back at him. “I was wondering if you would join me in the headmaster’s quarters for a light supper?”

Severus nodded. “Of course. Shall I come through now?”

“Yes. I’ve just sent the house-elves for the meal, and it should arrive shortly. Do come in,” she said, and moved out of the way.

Severus stepped through the flames, straightening himself up on the other side, and casting a customary cleaning spell so as he did not reek of ash and soot. “To what to I owe the pleasure of such an invitation, Minerva?”

Minerva hesitated for a moment, before a table appeared in the center of the room as if by magic, with two chairs, and two plates, covered with silver tops. A smaller table appeared just beside the larger one, and Severus assumed that the covered dish upon it contained their pudding. “Why don’t we sit down?” Minerva asked, and the pair of them crossed the room and took their seats across from one another. Minerva took off the dish cover upon her plate, revealing a beautiful chicken pot pie, and smiled at Severus’s own roast dinner, for she knew how much it pleased him to have his favorite meal.

“Thank you, Minerva,” Severus said softly.

“It is no trouble at all, Severus...” Minerva hesitated for a moment, before casting a silent Warming Charm on each of their meals, and her colleague raised his eyes to hers. “I confess, I didn’t merely invite you up here for supper...”

Severus nodded, leaning back in his chair. “I suspected as much,” he intoned, no hostility in his voice, and Minerva only detected contemplation. “To what do I owe the pleasure, then?” he asked for the second time that evening.

“Dougal McGregor,” she said quietly.

Severus blinked, unaware of the name. “Pardon?”

She let out a little sigh then, and Severus detected some sadness associated with the name that his old friend had just coughed up. “He was my fiancé—for a day, mind you—when I was eighteen-years-old. I was in love with him, to put it bluntly,” she went on, and Severus felt his eyebrows creeping upwards at that.

“What happened?” Severus asked.

“He was a farmer’s son, a Muggle,” Minerva explained, squaring her shoulders. “My mother married a Muggle, you see, and had to put her wand away and forget all about magic. My two younger brothers, Robert and Malcolm, were wizards; Robert was killed during the First Wizarding War,” she put in softly. “Anyhow, Dougal and I... We were so happy. I’d graduated from Hogwarts, and had been offered a position at the ministry, and went home for a final summer with my family. That is how I met Dougal.”

“He loved you?” Severus asked.

Minerva laughed aloud. “Well, I can’t speak for him, but I certainly hope he liked me, based on his marriage proposal to me,” she said. “But, I’d seen how my mother was—envious of myself and my brothers, about how we’d been given the freedom to use our magic. I didn’t want that for myself, so, after one day of delirious happiness, I... I broke off the engagement.”

Severus blinked. “You did?”

“I did,” Minerva affirmed. “I never even told my mother and father about it. And, when I did go to break it off, because of the Statute of Secrecy, I couldn’t give Dougal a reason why I was breaking my promise to marry him. He must have thought me so cold,” she said quietly. “I left for London three days later.”

“I am sorry,” Severus said. “I didn’t know.” He hesitated for a moment. “And what about Elphinstone?” he asked.

Minerva smiled at the mention of her husband, who had been gone fourteen years. “He proposed to me several times over the years, you know,” she said softly. “We would meet in Hogsmeade and would frequent Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop.”

“And?”

Minerva let out a small sigh then. “I couldn’t say yes, not for a long time,” she admitted. “I think a part of me believed it would be seen as disloyal to Dougal, even though I certainly had no intention of contacting him again. But, I...”

“You still loved him,” Severus guessed.

Minerva raised her eyes to his. “I did, yes,” she admitted. “But after I heard the news about his death... Things changed. Elphinstone and I went for a walk along the lake, here upon the grounds, and he asked me again.” Minerva got a faraway look in her eyes, almost as if she was revisiting that memory for the first time in a long while. “Perhaps it was the different setting, or perhaps it was Dougal’s death, or... Well, I’d always cared for Elphinstone, and it certainly helped that he was a wizard as well. Perhaps that friendship turned into a semblance of love, which is why I accepted his proposal.” She hesitated for a moment. “For three years, we were a happy pair, but then one false move with a Venomous Tentacula biting him and all was lost for me in matters of the heart.”

Severus hesitated for a moment. “Why are you telling me all this, Minerva?”

Minerva smiled then, never taking her eyes from his. “I don’t want you to make the same mistake that I did, Severus. Giving up Dougal was very painful, and not saying yes right away to Elphinstone due to my own pigheadedness... Well, suffice it to say, Elphinstone and I could have had many happy years together if I wasn’t so afraid.”

Severus shook his head. “You’re a Gryffindor.”

Minerva grinned. “Yes, but I could have been a Ravenclaw—Hatstall, you know,” she said, and Severus looked just a bit shocked at this confession. “I’m telling you this, Severus, because I don’t want you to make the same mistake I did.”

Severus blinked. “Mistake?”

Minerva sighed, reaching forwards and gently covering her hand with his. “I’m not blind. I know a man filled with fear when I see it; it was the same look I gave myself in my looking glass in my bedroom, right before I went to see Dougal, to tell him that the engagement was off. I didn’t want to hurt him, and that outweighed the pain in my heart, at the end of it all.”

“Minerva...”

“No, Severus, please listen,” she said, gently but firmly. “I need you to hear this. It is very rare to see such love between two people; I myself haven’t seen such a love many times in my life. Lily and James, for one; Neville and Draco for another. But you and Harry? Well,” she said, and squeezed his hand, smiling as she let it go, “it’s easy to think that you’re too different from one another, and that your pasts may not mesh well with your future...”

Severus looked away. “Minerva...”

“I’ve not yet finished, Severus,” she said gently. “I know you love him. Now that the curse has lifted, you’re free to be with him. What is holding you back? Is it truly fear?”

Severus swallowed. “That is some of it, yes.”

“And the rest of it?”

Severus hunched his shoulders. “I believe myself unworthy, I suppose,” he said quietly. “That, combined with the way I treated him during his formative years...”

“Has Harry affirmed his feelings for you of late?”

Severus nodded. “He has. But...”

“Then what is stopping you, Severus?”

Severus sighed and looked up. “Another man.”

Minerva blinked. “Another man? Who?”

“Charlie Weasley,” Severus said softly. “I’ve seen them together...”

Minerva shrugged. “And? The Weasleys practically adopted Harry from the time he first entered Hogwarts, Severus—you know this. What is the problem with a simple interaction?”

“It is not the interaction, Minerva, but the way Charlie behaves.”

“How does he behave?”

Severus shut his eyes then, remembering the heat behind Charlie’s expression during the Thanksgiving celebrations at the Burrow, and his frequent quests to get Harry alone with him. It hurt Severus deeply how much he’d brushed their interaction off; he thought initially it was because Harry deserved a way out. But, it was then that Severus remembered the expression in those beautiful green eyes of Harry’s—fear. Not just fear of losing him, but fear of his own past, and what had happened at the hands of that uncle of his...

“Severus?”

“I couldn’t admit to him my jealousy,” Severus whispered, his eyes slowly opening. “I didn’t want to seem like some petty teenager, but...”

“But what, Severus?”

“I suppose I didn’t take the entirety of the situation into account,” Severus said. “I mean, Harry’s past was no walk in the park...”

“Similar to yours,” Minerva said.

Severus nodded. “Yes, but his was worse. My mother and father neglected me, and my father would hit me, but he never...”

Minerva nodded. “I understand, Severus.”

“I didn’t take into account Harry’s fears based directly on Charlie’s actions,” Severus said, and dragged his fingers through his hair. “If only...”

“What?”

“I think, perhaps, if the curse hadn’t happened, then...”

“Severus, think about it,” Minerva said softly. “If the curse hadn’t happened, what would you have done if Harry made his plans known to track down Voldemort on his own?”

Severus’s hands curled into fists without hesitation. “I would have done everything in my power to stop him,” he said quickly. “I know he had to have been the one to kill him—Dumbledore kept me appraised of the prophecy—but I couldn’t have just let him go out on his own like that. Sure, the mission was accomplished by the help of the Elder Wand, but one false thing happening to him and I would’ve...”

“Not to mention the fact that Harry was already carrying Lily at the time,” Minerva said, and Severus immediately put his head into his hands. “He did it for you, Severus. He wasn’t thinking of the Wizarding World or the Greater Good any longer. He deliberately sought out Voldemort on his own and killed him and several of his key followers for you, and I don’t believe he would change anything about his actions. He even proposed marriage to you before he left, as his last act, and promise to you, letting you know of his love.”

“I love him,” Severus said, dragging his hands down his face and staring at Minerva. “I love him so much, Minerva, but...”

“No ‘buts’, Severus,” Minerva said firmly, crossing her arms. “You’ve got to understand that love has no agenda, but life does.”

Severus’s brows came together then. “What do you mean?”

“Well, do you honestly expect someone as amazing, kind-hearted, intelligent, respectful, and handsome as Harry Potter to wait around for you forever?”

“Minerva—”

“I am not speaking about physicality, Severus.”

Severus sighed. “Right.”

“But you still didn’t answer the question,” she said, a small smile playing at her lips. “Just allow yourself to truly think about it for a moment.”

Severus nodded, his shoulders deflating from the moment reality began settling in. “No. I don’t expect someone as amazing, kind-hearted, intelligent, respectful, and handsome as Harry Potter to wait around for me forever.”

“That’s a good start, then,” Minerva said. “Now, what’s the next plan of action?”

Severus swallowed. “Well, we’ve got Christmas at the Burrow tomorrow—for some reason, Harry has requested my presence there.”

Minerva laughed aloud. “It is because, despite everything he has been through—including what you have put him through—Harry is so unfailingly kind that he sees past that.”

Severus permitted himself to smile slightly then. “He gets that from Lily.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Minerva replied. “He also inherited her ability to love. And love, he does. He loves you, Severus. Why can’t you allow yourself to see that?”

“I can see it, Minerva. I think it’s just reluctance to believe that someone as amazing, kind-hearted, intelligent, respectful, and handsome... Well, you get the idea,” he said, and Minerva grinned across the table at him. “I suppose it also has to do with the conditions I was raised in. I did not inherit the ability to love from anyone, and when I finally had a sister—Lily—she was taken away from me by my one enemy.”

“James,” Minerva said softly.

Severus nodded. “Yes. James. And I suppose, at first, I believed that Harry was like him, that I thought I had an obligation to hate him, but...”

“He was Lily’s child, too, and you saw that, I know it.”

“I did. But his fifth-year, during Occlumency lessons, I saw a different side of him. He was truly compassionate when he viewed my memories without permission, and a wave of understanding came over his features. It was a look I’d never expected from him, and I was able finally to separate him from James.”

“It must have been difficult for you.”

“It was, extremely so, given that he invaded my Pensive without my permission,” Severus said, and recalled his anger towards Harry. “However, because I developed feelings for him just before the following school year begun, and when Dumbledore informed me that, in order to save the Wizarding World and defeat Voldemort, that Harry must be a casualty as well, I found that something had broken inside of me.”

“And that is what woke you up, so to speak?”

Severus looked up at Minerva. “So to speak, yes. I realized that I’d been lying to myself, and that I cared about him, and I lost control that Christmas, when all the walls came down and I just had to kiss him....”

“I really wish I hadn’t taken a walk,” Minerva said, and Severus smiled guiltily at her. “But I can understand it, Severus, and I do.”

“It was only Harry, I swear,” Severus told her, and Minerva nodded. “I think it will only ever be Harry, but...”

“No, Severus,” Minerva said, her voice taking on that firm quality again. “Do not doubt yourself, not like I did. You need to be strong, and tell him how you feel, and what you want.”

“How will I know if—?”

“You won’t know anything until or unless you ask him,” Minerva said, before nodding down at his portion of roast. “Now, eat your supper, and figure out what you’ll say to Harry at the Burrow tomorrow. It’s Christmas, the season to be merry, after all.”

. . .

Severus arrived at the Burrow via Apparition at the same moment Harry did via the Floo Network, and as Severus stepped inside of the Weasley family home, he caught sight of the man he loved holding their daughter. Severus managed a smile as he shut the door behind him, and as Molly Weasley stepped forward to greet him, he presented to her a high-priced bottle of elf-made wine that made her gush. She put an arm around his shoulders, bringing him into the living room and everyone either stood or waved to greet him accordingly, and Severus found himself enveloped in warmth and acceptance. Severus noticed the great pile of gifts beneath the beautiful Christmas tree, and put his own pile—which he had shrunk down to put into his pocket—beneath the tree as well, once they’d become the right size again, of course.

“You can sit with us, Severus,” Hermione said, and waved him over to the couch she occupied with Ron.

“Thank you,” Severus replied, and slowly crossed over to sit with them. “How much longer until the child is born?” he asked.

Hermione beamed, and Ron looked quite proud of himself. “The doctors say by the end of the week we’ll likely see something,” she said softly, running her hand along her swollen stomach in a moment of motherly pride. “However, the backaches are terrible, but my healers say that some of the herbs inside the potions could do damage to the child...”

“Yes, English Ivy and Oleander are frequently seen as dangerous,” Severus told her with a quick nod. “Do you know the sex yet?” he asked.

“It’s a girl,” Ron said quickly, putting an arm around his wife’s shoulders. “We’ve decided on the name Rose for her.”

“A beautiful name,” Severus said with a nod.

Molly bustled into the room then, informing everyone gathered that dinner was ready to be served at the extra-long table. Severus got to his feet and fell in line with the rest of the guests at the Burrow that evening; other than him, Harry and Lily were there; Ron and Hermione; Luna Lovegood and her husband, Rolf Scamander; Neville and Draco, who kept a good grip on baby Scorpius; Ginny Weasley and her fiancé, Dean Thomas; Remus and Nymphadora Lupin, as well as their son, Teddy; Bill Weasley and his wife, Fleur Delacour; plus Charlie Weasley, on a visit home from Romania, and Fred and George, the mischievous twins, who had closed their shop in Diagon Alley for the Christmas holidays.

Severus was motioned by Molly to take a seat beside Harry, and he moved to do so, although he was uncomfortable when Charlie put himself on Harry’s other side. Severus stared around the table at the offerings, as Molly sat at the foot of the table and her husband, Arthur, sat at its head, and they all told everyone that they were thankful to have them there that Christmas. Severus looked around at the beautiful array of food, which included a giant turkey as the main entrée, which Arthur Weasley was currently carving. Along the table, other beautiful dishes boasted roast potatoes, stuffing, pigs in a blanket, Yorkshire pudding, gravy, cranberry sauce, Brussel sprouts, mince pies, and a Christmas pudding, which had been placed upon the sideboard behind the table, likely to be eaten later.

The plates were passed around the table, to ensure everyone got their fill of everything, and when the final plate was finally lowered to the table, Molly and Arthur encouraged their gathered company to eat, and to eat their fill. Severus remembered how much he’d disliked eating when serving Voldemort, likely due to the fact that the effects—on him, at least—of the Cruciatus Curse caused him to vomit. He’d then taken to eating nutritional supplements, plus only one big meal a day. Voldemort would usually summon him by nightfall, and the meetings would only be once a week so as not to draw suspicion. Now that he was finally gone, Severus had a new joy of eating, and would eat three healthy meals per day, and could finally say—as could Madam Pomfrey—that he was at a healthy weight.

“Coffee, hot chocolate, or tea, Severus?”

Severus looked around then, suddenly very aware of how lost in his own thoughts he had been, as everyone had slowly but surely migrated from the table and back out into the living room, and he briefly resented the fact at how much he had temporarily forgotten himself. “Coffee, please, Molly,” he said.

Molly smiled. “Of course, dear,” she said, squeezing his shoulder gently. “Now, run along out into the living room with everyone else. The tea and coffee should be ready in time for the Christmas pudding, and we’ll be opening gifts beforehand.”

Severus nodded. “Very well,” he said, getting to his feet and making his way out into the living room, spotting Harry immediately, still holding Lily, although Severus found himself angered that Charlie was sitting at his other side, pressing himself against him.

“Well, well, well,” Arthur Weasley said, commanding the room as he stepped into it, and made his way over to the massive Christmas tree. “Molly has given me permission to oversee the gifts, so let’s get right to it, shall we?”

Severus bit his tongue, but allowed himself to smile when Hermione waved him over to sit with her and Ron again. “Thank you,” he said softly to her.

Hermione patted his arm. “Don’t mention it,” she said, and followed his gaze to where it rested on Harry and Charlie. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, you know.”

Severus blinked. “What?”

“You love him,” Ron said with a smile, and Severus swallowed at the implications that Ron was drawing from one look. “Harry knows that. He wouldn’t want to ruin it, trust me.”

Arthur began doling out the various gifts—Luna and Rolf received the latest informational source on Magizoology; Remus and Tonks got a weekend away, with Molly and Arthur volunteering to watch Teddy if Tonks’ parents were unavailable; Bill and Fleur got a gift certificate from a leading designer in the Wizarding World to re-decorate Shell Cottage; Ginny and Dean got a meeting with Kingsley Shacklebolt to promote their cause; Ron and Hermione got a whole slew of baby things; Neville and Draco got on the wait-list for a wizarding primary school in their area; Fred and George got a new employee for their shop, who turned out to be Remus, who they welcomed with open arms; Charlie got a research book on dragons that Hermione had considerately picked out for him; Molly and Arthur announced that they’d gotten property in America, that they intended to build a new house on; Severus got the latest edition of _Book of Potions_ ; and Harry got lots of knitted garments from Molly for himself and for Lily, and even a lovely little jumper for Kreacher.

“That’ll be the drinks,” Molly said, once the gift-wrapping and announcements to that subject had commenced, and a scent of cinnamon, chocolate, coffee, and herbed tea had leaked out from the kitchen, and she got to her feet. She returned a moment later, levitating the pudding, server, and plates for it, as well as the pots of coffee, tea, and hot chocolate, all in mugs. She set these down upon the coffee table in the living room, before summoning cream and sugar from the kitchen. She was able to slice the thing by magic, and handed off pieces to everyone, followed by mugs of tea, hot chocolate, or coffee, whatever anyone requested.

Severus cut into the pudding when it seemed polite to do so, the spicy plums a lovely thing to meet his tongue, and he accompanied each bite with a sip of coffee. Everyone seated around him was involved with their own conversations about various things, and as Severus chewed, he listened in on various ones. Clearly, Luna and Rolf had something to share with the company gathered that evening; Neville and Draco were over the moon about Scorpius beginning primary school in the near future; Ron and Hermione talked about which side of the family they believed the baby would look more like; and so on and so on.

It was then that Severus caught wind of another conversation, which made the plums quickly turn sour in his mouth.

“Harry.”

“Yeah?”

“You think you’ll ever get to Romania?”

“Dunno. Maybe one day.”

Charlie reached out then; Lily had migrated into Molly’s arms, leaving Harry to eat his pudding and sip his cup of hot chocolate. “I _really_ hope you’ll come over there one of these days,” he went on, his voice a purr, as he caressed Harry’s leg.

Harry’s cheeks reddened. “Charlie...”

“I know, I know, shit’s complicated right now. But the war’s over, isn’t it?” he asked, reaching out and turning Harry’s face, so that their eyes met. “Why don’t you live a little, eh?”

“Charlie...” Harry tried again.

Perhaps, if Severus had been in Gryffindor, things could’ve been different, and he could’ve literally flown over there and demanded that Charlie take his hands off Harry. The blood boiled inside of him, and before he could contain himself, he found himself Apparating away.

Harry turned his head then, jaw dropping at the notion that Severus had left. He pulled away from Charlie, and set his pudding aside, motioning for Molly to return Lily to him. He settled his daughter in his arms, a wave of calm flowing through him then as she leaned back into the warmth of his embrace.

“Well,” Rolf said, clearing his throat and standing up, gently pulling Luna up after him. “My wife and I have an announcement.”

“I’m due to have a baby in six months,” Luna said, her eyes shining with happiness.

Molly let out a shout of joy then, and Ginny promptly ran to Luna and embraced her, while Hermione did her best to waddle over and hug her as well. Harry found himself smiling at the proclamation, but he still felt the heat behind Charlie’s expression, and it was then that he couldn’t stand it any longer.

“I’ve tried being nice, because you’re Ron’s brother, but enough is enough,” Harry said through his teeth, and Charlie looked taken back. “I’m in love with someone else; I told you as much at Thanksgiving, but you chose to ignore me. Now, if you ever touch me inappropriately again, I won’t hesitate to set a Stinging Jinx onto you. Are we quite clear?”

Charlie gulped then, but nodded. “Loud and clear.”

“Good,” Harry replied, keeping his eyes narrowed. “Now, I highly suggest you go and sit somewhere else, because you’re invading my personal space.”

“Right,” Charlie said; he’d gone white, and as he got to his feet to find another place to sit, he stumbled, and Harry covered his face to prevent himself from laughing aloud.

. . .

Harry felt the lump forming in his throat as he handed over Lily to Kreacher, newly garbed in the Christmas jumper from Molly, which the house-elf insisted that he loved nearly as much as ‘Mistress Lily’. Harry smiled, watching as Kreacher rocked back and forth in the chair, positioned beside Lily’s crib, and lulled his daughter to sleep. He hesitated for a moment, and shuffled from foot to foot.

“You’ll know where I’ll be?”

“Yes, Master Harry,” Kreacher confirmed, smiling up at him and wiggling his ancient ears ever so slightly. “You will be at Hogwarts, speaking to Professor Snape.”

“Er, yeah,” Harry said, swallowing slightly, not knowing what he would do if Severus attempted to turn him away. “I’ll try to be quick about it.”

“No, Master Harry. You must be gone for as long as it takes.” Kreacher hesitated for a moment, and looked down at Lily. “He is Mistress Lily’s other father, isn’t he, Master Harry?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, Kreacher.”

“And Master Harry loves Professor Snape very much?”

Harry sighed. “Yes. As much as I love Lily, in a different way, of course.”

Kreacher smiled then in understanding as he cuddled Lily close to him. “Well, Mistress Lily will be all right with Kreacher. Kreacher loves Mistress Lily.”

Harry nodded a second time. “I know you do, Kreacher.” Harry wandered towards the door of the nursery, checking the house-elf holding his daughter one last time, and knew that she would be safe. Nodding to himself, he headed downstairs, towards the massive hearth in the living room, and gathered up a healthy amount of Floo Powder into his fist. “The private quarters of Professor Severus Snape, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” he said, and tossed the powder into the grate, and the flames instantly glowed green.

Harry stepped into the grate and was temporarily swallowed up, before he could see the outline of the Potion Master’s rooms at Hogwarts. Once the image became clearer, Harry stepped inside of the rooms, nearly tumbling to the floor. He got to his feet then, casting a Cleaning Spell to himself and to the soot he’d managed to get onto the carpet around him, which is when he felt a pair of eyes on him.

Harry looked up then, and gazed at Severus unblinking for a few moments, before the silence became torture, and he forced himself to speak. “Severus.”

“Harry.”

“I came here because you should know by now that nothing could ever go on between Charlie and me,” Harry said quickly, and Severus swallowed. “I think I’ve made it abundantly clear how much I love you, and your negativity towards the situation is, quite frankly, draining. I mean, for Merlin’s sake, I asked you to marry me before I left to go and kill Riddle, and that was before either of us knew that Lily was a possibility, but that shouldn’t matter. I wanted to marry you before I got pregnant—I said as much in Sherwood Forest nearly a year ago. I don’t think I have to do anything else to justify my feelings for you, Severus, and if you’re feeling insecure because another man gives me attention, you’ve no cause to do so,” he continued, and Severus raised an eyebrow at that. “I told Charlie Weasley, a second time, mind you, that I’m in love with someone else, and since he refused to take the hint the first time, I vowed to put a Stinging Jinx onto him if he steps a toe out of line a third time, but I doubt he will.”

Severus smirked slightly at that. “Rather Slytherin of you, Harry.”

Harry sighed. “Makes sense, doesn’t it?” he asked, and Severus looked curious at the question. “I mean, we frequently take on the traits of the ones we love, and since I’m in love with a Slytherin, it had to happen sometime.” He stepped closer then, and gently took ahold of Severus’s robes in between his fingers. “Last I checked, Charlie Weasley was no Slytherin.”

Severus’s hands came upwards then, gently cupping Harry’s face as he stared into those rather intoxicating green eyes of his. “Harry,” he whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

Harry nodded, pressing a chaste kiss onto Severus’s lips. “For what?”

“For my treatment of you, when you attended Hogwarts, and during and after the curse,” he said, allowing the words to fall from his lips, for he found he could not permit them to remain trapped inside him any longer. “I should’ve known, even after the curse, that you would do anything for me, but...”

“It’s all right, Severus. Tell me.”

“I am afraid I am not a Gryffindor, for I lack courage completely,” Severus replied, and it was now Harry’s turn to raise his eyebrows. “I was afraid, based on my past treatment of you, that you would realize how truly unworthy I am of you. I was also afraid to lose you, when you reached that inevitable conclusion...”

“Hey, hey,” Harry said, his tone gentle as the tears came down Severus’s face. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for, Severus. You’re only human.”

“Harry, don’t throw my apology away like it’s nothing,” Severus said. “I’m unforgivable for my actions towards you, and I’d do anything to take them back.”

“I’m not throwing anything away, Severus. I’m merely telling you that I understand how you’re feeling right now, because I’m bloody scared, too.”

Severus blinked. “You’re scared?”

“Of course!” Harry cried out, laughing. “Why wouldn’t I be? You’re who I want to be with Severus, always, and if you came to the conclusion that I was too young for you, too famous, too rich, then perhaps you’d...”

“Never,” Severus said then, dragging Harry the rest of the way towards him and devouring his mouth then, before slamming him up against the opposite wall, his fingers going to the buttons of his shirt, undoing them hastily as he bent his head to taste the younger wizard’s collarbone. “I love you so much, Harry James Potter,” he declared.

Harry felt his toes curling then, as a moan escaped from his lips. “I love you, too, Severus Tobias Snape,” he said, nipping at his lower lip to prevent himself from crying out completely, as he lowered his hand and found his former professor’s erection, literally rising for the occasion. “Oh, Merlin, you feel incredible...”

Severus chuckled then, finding Harry’s from inside the younger man’s trousers. “It seems as though someone has missed the love of their life...”

Harry laughed aloud then, his eyes locking with Severus’s. “The feeling’s mutual, isn’t it?” he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire.

“Quite,” Severus replied with a grin, and grabbed Harry around his middle and carried him down the hallway and into his private rooms, the beautiful ebony bed that he’d made love to Harry in during his tenure as headmaster now residing there. Severus laughed aloud at Harry’s moan of longing, and laid him out in the center of the bed, banishing their clothes, looking hungrily up and down the younger man’s body.

“Harry...”

“Severus?” Harry whispered, parting his legs for Severus then, and yanking him forwards; preparation be damned, he needed his lover inside him now.

Severus grunted slightly upon entering, and slammed his mouth onto Harry’s in an effort to comfort him against crying out. “I love you,” he whispered, pulling back slowly as he eased in and out of his younger lover, tears streaming down his face.

Harry swallowed then, feeling his own tears escaping his eyes. “I love you, too,” he whispered back to him.

. . .

It was all over _The Quibbler_ —and, to a lesser-extent, _The Profit_ —that Harry Potter, the savior of the Wizarding World, and Severus Snape, potions professor and master, as well as the Head of Slytherin House of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, were officially a couple. Also, it was Xenophilius Lovegood who had gotten the exclusive story, with an inside-look at Grimmauld Place, as well as photographs of Harry, Severus, and Lily together. The whole of the Wizarding World was shocked at the age difference, however, one look at Lily Potter silenced them, and they immediately turned around and said that she was the most beautiful baby they’d ever laid eyes upon.

It was after midnight on the first of January when Harry returned to Grimmauld Place, and found Severus sitting in the living room, reading the _Book of Potions_ that Harry had bought for him over the Christmas holidays. He immediately put it aside, however, and summoned a cup of tea for his exhausted boyfriend, who rested his head on his former professor’s shoulder.

“You all right?” Severus asked.

Harry sighed. “Yeah, of course. Ron and Hermione just wanted me to be there when Rose was born. Thanks for helping Kreacher tonight with Lily.”

Severus nodded. “Of course,” he said, putting an arm around Harry’s shoulders as he perked up, sipping his tea. “And how is the latest Miss Weasley?”

Harry grinned. “Absolutely gorgeous,” he reported. “Red hair, and Hermione’s convinced she’ll have her brown eyes, but we’ll have to wait and see.”

Severus chuckled. “Yes, I suppose we’ll have to.”

Harry finished his tea, before levitating the cup and saucer and banishing it back to the kitchen, and turned to regard Severus. “Are you happy being back at Hogwarts?”

Severus shrugged. “I’m a potions master.”

“No, not professionally,” Harry said, shaking his head. “I meant, you know, living there.”

“Never gave it much thought.”

Harry carded his hands through his hair. “Well, I only ask, because I’ve yet to unveil your final Christmas present,” he explained awkwardly.

“Harry, the book is brilliant on its own,” Severus assured him. “I need nothing else.”

Harry laughed aloud then, pulling Severus to his feet. “Too late—it’s already been done,” he informed his lover, and pulled him out of the living room and towards the basement door. “I spent my bed rest when I was pregnant with Lily drawing up plans, and Kreacher, Ron, Neville, Draco, Bill, Fred, and George, and even Rolf, even came and had it built for me.” Harry unlocked the door with his wand, firing on the lights as he pulled Severus down the basement stairs, and, finally, turned on the final light below. “Well?” he asked.

Inside the basement was a state-of-the-art potions laboratory, more innovative than St. Mungo’s could ever hope to have, so much so that even his paltry lab, in comparison, at Hogwarts seemed lacking. It took Severus a moment to find his feet, and he stepped forward hesitantly, the book still gripped in his hands, and looked over the tables, cauldrons, vials, beakers, storage spaces, and everything else in Harry’s basement at Grimmauld Place.

“Harry...”

“Do you like it?” Harry asked, his voice unsure again, and, obviously the excitement had worn off, due to Severus’s silence. “If you don’t like it, or want to change anything, just let me know, and we’ll have someone down here immediately...”

Severus turned around then as Harry spoke and shook his head, a light chuckle escaping from his lips and crossing over to Harry, kissing him. “I absolutely love it.”

“Good,” Harry said, breathing a sigh of relief, “because it’s for you. Just you. You don’t have to share it with anyone if you don’t want to.”

Severus grinned. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Also,” Harry said, speaking quickly, likely for fear that he wouldn’t be able to work up the nerve to ask this again, “I was wondering if you’d like to move in.”

Severus blinked, still holding onto Harry. “Excuse me?”

“Well, I love you, and you love me, and we’re together, with no reason for us to part ever again, until the event of our deaths, that is. Not to mention that we’re raising a child together, and I’d hate for you to miss a moment of her growing up, because it does happen to fast,” Harry went on breathlessly. “I mean, only if you’d like to...”

Severus dragged Harry back towards him then, and kissed him passionately on the lips. “Yes, I would love to move in,” he whispered.

“Good,” Harry replied, wrapping his arms around Severus’s neck. “Oh, and just so you know, this lab is for potion-making only.”

Severus laughed. “So, nothing else?” he asked, and Harry’s mouth went dry at what his lover was insinuating in that moment. “What if I wanted to suspend everything on that table in mid-air, and have you ride me?”

Harry cleared his throat. “While that would not be objectionable,” he said, finally managing to find his voice again, “I meant that this does not double as a bedroom. Sexcapades aside, I would want you to sleep in the master bedroom with me.”

Severus nodded. “I suppose that is doable.” He hesitated for a moment, allowing his hands to hover downwards and cup Harry’s arse. “Now, what about my proposal?”

“What proposal?” Harry asked stupidly, already melting, due to the sensation of where Severus’s hands had decided to migrate to.

“About you riding me on that table?”

Harry’s lips slowly formed into a smile. “I think I can get on board with that.”

Severus took his wand and levitated the various cauldrons and vials off the table he’d indicated while Harry locked the basement door and covered the windows. “Come along,” he said then, and vanished their clothes quickly, before manipulating their bodies into position.

. . .

Gringotts hadn’t been very crowded that afternoon when Severus had bribed the goblins to let him in on a Sunday. Given that Valentine’s Day was considered a big deal, Severus knew that he had to go into the Prince family vault and search for something, and find something he did. It was a simple platinum ring, with shards of gold imbedded in the band itself and, if one were to shine it in the light just right, one could just make out rubies inside the gold itself. It was a perfect ring to present to Harry, when, he still didn’t know, but he knew that the time to plan his marriage proposal to the love of his life was nigh.

Harry came through the Floo shortly after Severus had arrived home earlier that afternoon, and Severus was quick to hide the ring inside his robes as Harry stepped into the kitchen. “Hey,” he said brightly, embracing Severus and kissing him, his green eyes already shining with happiness and uninhibited desire. “Where’s Lily?”

“Kreacher took her upstairs for a nap about twenty minutes ago.”

“Great,” Harry said, sitting across from Severus at the kitchen table. “Listen, I should let you know that I met with a realtor today...”

Severus blinked. “For what purpose?”

“I want Lily to be raised in the country,” Harry confessed, and Severus raised his eyebrows at the confession. “I found a beautiful country estate, and I think it’s perfect.”

Severus nodded. “Can it be hooked up to the Floo?”

Harry grinned. “Of course.”

“And where is this perfect estate?” Severus asked.

“I believe I said ‘beautiful’,” said the younger man, but Severus made a grab for him then and proceeded to nibble upon his neck, causing the younger man to arch up against him. “Merlin, Severus... It’s in Devon,” Harry told him, biting his lower lip to keep himself from losing complete control, although it hardly did any good, for the feeling of Severus’s mouth on him always proved to be his undoing. “It’s a seven-bedroom detached house, in Lee, Woolacombe, and it’s just... Oh, Merlin... It’s just lovely. It’s got a massive yard, stables, cows, and it’s close to the sea. We’ll have a lovely place for you to do your potions.”

Severus briefly lifted his head to regard Harry. “And the lab here?”

Harry swallowed then, bracing himself with one hand on Severus’s arm, while the other he’d pressed firmly onto the kitchen island. “We can always transfer it, of course, or simply build you a new one, if we decide to keep Grimmauld in the family,” Harry said with a shrug; his cheeks were flushed, and his pupils were blown wide. “Of course, we’ll be taking Kreacher with us. I think he’ll have fun, once I tell him he’s in charge of the cows,” he joked.

Severus smirked at the picture of pure debauchery his lover depicted, and found that giving him up would never be an option. “Did you get pictures?”

“Of course!” Harry said, obviously gleeful for the distraction as he dug into his rucksack for the disposable camera he’d bought at a Muggle shop the day before, and showing off the polaroid’s he’d taken. “Well? What do you think of it, Severus?” he asked.

“I think it is quite lovely,” Severus admitted, looking up at Harry. “When can we put an offer upon it, then?”

Harry let out a happy shout, before throwing himself into Severus’s arms and kissing him. “I’ll place a call to the realtor in the morning,” he told him.

. . .

The months rolled by, and soon, spring had ended and summer had begun. Harry, Severus, Lily, and Kreacher moved to Devon and into the estate on the first day of March. Luna gave birth to hers and Rolf’s twin boys—Lorcan and Lysander—at the beginning of June, and now, they had all gathered at the Burrow, eight days before Harry’s nineteenth birthday, to see Ginny and Dean get married.

Seamus and Lavender Brown came for the occasion; the pair were now married, as they’d had lingering feelings for each other since attending the Yule Ball together during fourth-year. Their one-year-old son, Aiden, was with his grandparents that day, along with their twin girls, Valencia and Valerie, who were just nine days old. Seamus, as Dean’s Best Man, waited around with Harry, Ron, Neville, Draco, and Rolf, who were serving as Groomsmen.

“Hey, you all right?” Harry asked, looking over at Draco, who appeared peaky.

“He will be,” Neville said indulgently, summoning a goblet of water for his husband, who drank it greedily.

“Whoa, slow down, mate,” Ron said quickly. “You don’t want to get sick.”

“Vomiting water would be an improvement over my mother’s cooking,” Draco said, a semblance of color returning to his cheeks.

“What’s wrong with your mother’s cooking?” Seamus asked. “I was always told the Malfoys had a proper chef.”

Draco laughed aloud. “We do. But Mother likes to spoil me.”

“We knew that already,” Neville said, squeezing Draco’s shoulder. “But remember, an excess of fatty foods, especially in the summer, can be a recipe for disaster.”

“Are you hiding something from us?” Rolf asked.

“I was just thinking the same thing,” Harry put in.

Draco sighed, looking over at Neville, who gestured him that he could share their news with their circle of friends. “Neville and I will have another child come Christmas.”

“That’s brilliant!” Ron shouted, punching the air.

Their conversation—filled with good-wishes and mock-leering eyes—was interrupted when Seamus, who was serving as the lookout, said that it was time. Harry, Ron, Neville, Draco, and Rolf assumed their positions, waiting to escort their partnered bridesmaids out. The bridesmaids were as follows: Lavender, Hannah Abbott, Gabrielle, Fleur, and Luna, while Seamus, as Best Man, would escort Hermione, as Matron of Honor. Once Harry, the rest of the Groomsmen and bridesmaids, had all fallen in line and gone up the aisle, Seamus and Hermione started up and, once they’d finished, Dean emerged from the front flap of the tent.

Arthur Weasley’s eyes were red as he carefully walked Ginny up the aisle, and they all smiled and nodded at the various relatives who had turned up that day. Ginny was radiant in an A-line wedding dress with a scoop line neckline, and her white heels were covered by the long skirt. As she and her father approached Dean and the wizard justice of the peace, Arthur kissed his only daughter on the cheek, whereupon he shook Dean’s hand, before he made his way to the front row of the bride’s side to sit beside Molly, who was dabbing at her eyes.

“We are gathered here today to witness the union of Dean Gerhard Thomas, and Ginevra Molly Weasley,” said the wizard justice of the peace, and Harry turned, giving Severus a wink, leaving the Slytherin to wonder if the Gryffindor knew something he did not.

. . .

The celebration of Harry’s nineteenth birthday at the Burrow eight days after Ginny and Dean were married and headed off for Spain for their honeymoon was a lovely affair. With Lily being tended to by Kreacher at their new estate in Devon, not too far from the Burrow itself, Harry and Severus were quite pleased to have some adult time. Now that Charlie seemed to understand that Harry and Severus were a serious item, he kept an appropriate distance, and even mentioned that he and a colleague of his in Romania had begun seeing one another.

Harry and Severus slowly broke away from the party, and walked along the grounds of the Burrow just as the sun began to set. Their hands were tangled together, and Harry would periodically rest his head upon Severus’s shoulder. As the sun dipped lower on the horizon, Harry let out a small sigh of contentment.

“I’m so happy,” he said.

“Are you?”

“Yes,” Harry replied, looking up at Severus. “I love you, and now that I have you, I feel like the next adventure is just beginning. We’ve got a healthy, beautiful daughter in Lily, a lovely home, job security... What more could we want or need?”

Severus hesitated, knowing that the time had come. “Perhaps we might want or need a more permanent arrangement?” he asked Harry.

Harry blinked. “What are you saying?”

Severus smiled down at Harry then, never letting go of his hand that he held, as he reached into his trouser pocket and removed the box which held the ring from the Prince family vault. “I fetched this on Valentine’s Day from Gringotts, and I was waiting for the perfect opportunity to bring it out,” he said softly, and opened the box, and Harry gasped aloud. “Harry James Potter, I love you more than anything in the world. Will you make me the happiest wizard in the land and consent to being my husband?” he asked.

Harry felt the tears suspending themselves in his lashes, and soon the jerky movements of his nodding managed to come forth. “Yes, yes,” he said, his voice cracking from sobs. “I will marry you, Severus Tobias Snape.”

Severus grinned, not knowing what he would’ve done, had Harry said no. He slipped the beautiful ring onto Harry’s finger, and a shock wave went through him as Harry lowered himself then. “Um... Harry, perhaps we could wait until we return home...?”

Harry laughed aloud then as he moved onto one knee, so as Severus would see that his impure thoughts had no place there, for now. He reached into his own trouser pocket then, and produced his own box. “This was in my own vault at Gringotts,” Harry explained as he slowly opened the box, revealing a platinum band, its inner workings filled with Celtic knots, while the outer part of the band featured a combination of understated emeralds and diamonds. “Severus Tobias Snape, I love you so much. Will you be my husband?” Harry asked.

Severus let out a gasp then, hardly knowing how Harry had managed to keep the ring hidden from him, but, of course, he’d done the same. “Yes, Harry,” Severus said, finding that the task of nodding had become difficult as he held out his hand towards him. “Yes. I’ll marry you and be your husband.”

Harry let out a relieved shout then as he put the ring onto Severus’s outstretched finger, before he was pulled upwards and kissed with such passion on the lips, that Harry thought he would faint right then and there. “Forever,” Harry whispered, pulling back so as he could look properly into his fiancé’s eyes.

“Forever,” Severus agreed, tipping his head downwards to kiss Harry again.


	15. I’ll Think Of All That Might’ve Been

Harry stepped inside the estate in Devon after grabbing the post one afternoon in late-November, and felt the warm smile come automatically to his lips when he spotted Severus and Lily on the floor of the living room, Lily sitting up on a blanket, while Severus was gently coaxing her to her feet and, upon the success of that, began gently walking with her around the room. She let out a giggle after a few minutes, spotting Harry, and immediately left Severus’s side and crossed over to him almost effortlessly, lifting her arms towards him.

“Daddy, up!” she chanted.

Harry smiled indulgently down at his firstborn, and set the post upon the coffee table and gathered up his daughter in his arms. “Well, Miss Lily, have you been having a good time today?” he asked her.

“Yes, Daddy,” Lily replied, nodding her head before turning to Severus. “Papa tells Lily lots of stories about school.”

“Hogwarts is not merely a school, Lily,” Severus said, addressing their daughter gently as he bent towards the table to sift through the post. “It is a way of life. If you’re a Slytherin like me, then you’ll have quite a time there...”

“Excuse me?!” Harry demanded, gently putting Lily’s face against his chest and covering her other ear with his free hand, so much so that Lily laughed aloud at the gesture. “No. Lily is going to be a Gryffindor whether you like it or not!”

Severus held up his hands in surrender, and went back to fishing through the mail. “Ah, look at this—a letter from Ginny and Dean.”

Harry crossed over towards the couch and sat upon it, waiting for Severus to join him and, when he had done so, Lily moved so that she was sitting between them. “That’s wonderful. We haven’t seen much of them since they got back from Spain. What’s up?”

Severus smiled, summoning a letter-opener and slicing open the envelope, whereupon he held it up and began to read Ginny’s tiny, slanted script.

 

_Dear Harry, Severus, and Miss Lily,_

_Dean and I had an absolutely wonderful time in Spain—we have many presents for my precious goddaughter, of which I cannot wait to present to her. You say the word, and she will receive them promptly as possible. However, I don’t believe that Dulcis would be able to make the trip all in one go, as some of the parcels are quite large, and wouldn’t do particularly well with Shrinking Charms, but we’ll make it work._

_We want to know absolutely everything you’re willing to share with us about wedding planning. I am quite sure that my dear sister-in-law wants to be involved as well, but I happen to think that there is room for everyone, if that is what you so choose. Mum and I spoke the other day about it—she and Dad are very excited—and say that if you need anything, anything at all, to let them know, and they’ll help. The same goes for me and Dean—you say the word, and you and Severus shall have it for the big day in question._

_We also wanted you and Severus to be the fourth to know—after Mum and Dad, Dean’s parents, and Ron and Hermione—that Dean and I are expecting a child. The child is due to be born at the end of spring, and we cannot tell you how excited the pair of us are. It was most unexpected, like the first time, but, thankfully, no Carrows are around to disrupt such a thing. Using the Killing Curse truly changes you, and I don’t think I will want to use such a thing again. Now that Dean and I are older and wiser, perhaps now is the time for a child._

_We love you all, and hope to see you for Thanksgiving!_

_With love,_

_Ginny Thomas_

 

“Well, isn’t that lovely that they’re expecting again?” Severus said, folding up the letter carefully and returning it inside its envelope. “We’ll have to send them a reply quickly, letting them know that we got the letter, and are looking forward to a chat about Spain and Lily’s gifts...”

“Not to mention our plans to see them for Thanksgiving,” Harry put in, and Severus nodded. He straightened then, permitting Lily, who’d just begun to fuss, to get up off the couch and toddle around the room on her own. “I’ve been thinking,” he said, keeping a close eye on her as she stared outside, and knew that he would have to run after her immediately with her shoes and jumper if she decided she wanted to be in the backyard.

“What about?” Severus asked.

Harry swallowed, leaning back against the comfortable couch cushions. “We’ve settled in here so nicely, I’m wondering about potentially selling Grimmauld Place, or donating it to the ministry to be permanent Order of the Phoenix headquarters, should the old regime attempt to come back again,” he said, his tone soft.

Severus nodded at that, considering. “Well, I’ll be the first to admit that I like my potions lab here far better,” he said softly, and Harry turned to look over at his fiancé. “The quiet is certainly beneficial, and knowing that Lily has Rose and Scorpius to play with just a fire-call away is certainly a good thing...”

“What are you saying then?” Harry asked.

Severus smiled. “I can merely offer my opinion on the matter, Harry. As you well know, you are the heir to the House of Black, as per Sirius’s wishes. Even if you sell Grimmauld Place, and this estate becomes what we ultimately leave to Lily...” He spread his hands. “I love it out here, I’ll admit, because I don’t turn a corner and suddenly think that we’re back into the old days, where we hated one another, and I had two masters...”

“So... You want me to sell it?”

“Or give it to Kingsley, like you suggested,” Severus replied. “It’s up to you, as Grimmauld Place belongs to you.”

Harry nodded, thinking it over. “I think I want to sell it, or present it to Kingsley for ministry business of some kind,” he said at last, and Severus nodded back at him. “I’ll contact Kingsley sometime this week.”

Severus leaned over then and squeezed Harry’s hand. “I think that that’s an excellent idea,” he said and, once he made sure Lily wasn’t looking, yanked Harry into his arms for a kiss.

. . .

Harry remembered the conversation he’d had with Ron and Hermione the night before, when they had all gathered at the Burrow for Christmas. He’d pulled them aside, when Severus was preoccupied with Lily, and gripped onto their hands for a moment. “Listen, I know that I’m getting married to the love of my life tomorrow...”

“Getting cold feet, mate?” Ron asked.

Hermione swatted him on the shoulder. “Honestly, Ronald!” she hissed at him, before turning back to Harry. “Yes, Harry, we’re quite aware. And we couldn’t be happier.”

“Well, I know you know that I haven’t got a mum or a dad,” he said, hunching his shoulders then, and a wave of sorrow flitted across Hermione’s features. “But, I think that the person walking down the aisle with someone at their wedding doesn’t necessarily have to be a parent. I think they need to be someone who loves the person unconditionally, who will be there with them through thick and thin, and, well...” Harry sighed then and raised his eyes to his two best friends. “Would you two walk me down the aisle tomorrow?”

“You want us to—?” Ron demanded, but was cut off by Hermione elbowing him roughly in the ribs, with a scathing expression, before she looked at Harry with a grin.

“Harry, Ron and I would be honored to walk with you,” Hermione proclaimed, and threw her arms around him, kissing his cheek.

The following afternoon,, Harry stared into the mirror, and wanted to remind himself to ask Severus to send a thank-you note to whoever had invented the Dreamless Sleep Potion, as it had helped him do just that the previous evening, and he wouldn’t have otherwise, due to his excitement to marry the love of his life. For the last near-year, Harry and Severus had never been apart at night, but Molly and Arthur had taken Lily the night before, while Severus had remained at home, and Harry slept over at Ron and Hermione’s place in the lovely London suburb they’d settled in after their wedding.

“There you are,” Hermione said, her gentle voice invading his thoughts as she came inside with a smile, a box in her hands. “Your gift from Severus.”

Harry smiled, and opened the small parcel, revealing gold cufflinks with highly-polished rubies in their centers. “They’re beautiful,” he said, and extended his arm so that Hermione could help him. “And he’s got mine, then?”

“Draco is taking them to him as we speak,” Hermione replied, speaking of the silver cufflinks with the emeralds that Harry had picked out for Severus a few weeks prior. “How are you feeling?” she asked him then, vanishing the box the cufflinks had come in, and spelling his crimson-colored tie a bit more straight. “Okay?”

Harry raised his eyes to hers, remembering that she had spoken the same words to him before the First Task of The Triwizard Tournament.

“The key is to concentrate,” Hermione said gently to him then, picking up on the memory, and Harry smiled slowly at her. “And after that you’ve just got to...”

“Battle marriage to a Slytherin,” Harry joked.

Hermione laughed aloud then, throwing herself into Harry’s arms as she had done in fourth-year, and just held onto him for a moment. “I can’t tell you how happy I am for you, Harry,” she whispered in his ear as the door opened from behind him.

“Let the man breathe, Hermione,” Ron scolded gently from behind her, and Hermione promptly turned Harry loose, casting a spell to his dress robes to make sure they weren’t rumpled. “I just came in to say, ‘good luck’,” Ron said, patting Harry on the shoulder for a moment before the two wizards embraced. “And to say that everyone’s at places.”

“Blimey,” Harry muttered, squaring his shoulders then. “Okay. Guess we’d better get down there, then, before they think we’re off searching for Horcruxes again.”

Hermione laughed aloud then, taking Harry’s hand, while Ron linked Harry’s free arm in his, and they left the room Harry always had slept in at the Burrow. They went downstairs, and made their way through the kitchen and out the door, and into the main entrance of the tent. It was at that moment that Severus stepped through the side front flap, and Harry’s breath caught in his throat then, as he gazed at the deep green robes his fiancé wore, and how beautiful the ring and cufflinks he’d given him looked together.

“Ready?” Ron whispered.

Harry nodded. “Let’s go,” he replied.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all stepped in through the entrance of the tent, and Harry’s breath hitched as Severus’s eyes immediately moved to meet his. He could detect the slight shudder coming off of Severus from where he stood beside the justice of the peace, and his hands gripped their respective opposite wrists, obviously attempting to restrain himself. Harry swallowed then, and, sooner than he’d ever expected, the trio were finally at the edge of the aisle. Hermione kissed Harry on the cheek, and Ron gave him a one-armed hug, before going to sit beside Molly and Arthur, who held onto Lily and Rose respectively, and Hermione took Rose back into her arms before she moved to sit down.

“To everyone gathered here at the Weasley home in Devon, known as the Burrow, I formally bid you welcome you to the union of Severus Tobias Snape and Harry James Potter,” said the justice of the peace, and Harry felt secure immediately as Severus took his hands in his. “Life is an interesting thing, and it often has a way of presenting itself in such a manner. When Harry and Severus first encountered the other, suffice it to say that falling in love was the last thing on either of their minds. However, as time went on, they realized that the other was exactly what they needed, and when that discovery was made, they knew that they had to do everything in their power to protect the other, no matter what. It is through these vows today, that Severus and Harry let you all know that they appreciate and thank you for loving and supporting them on their journey, and that they want to share in your company through witnessing these vows.” The justice of the peace took a moment then, before turning to Severus. “Severus, do you take Harry to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, to love, and to cherish, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”

Severus smiled at Harry then, and nodded. “I do,” he replied.

“And do you, Harry, take Severus to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, to love, and to cherish, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”

Harry squeezed Severus’s hands then, letting him know that he would never say no to this. “I do,” Harry said softly.

“With this vow,” Severus said, his tone resolute, “I promise to be faithful to you alone.”

“With this vow,” Harry repeated, “I promise to be faithful to you alone.”

“In saying these vows, you have promised to live together as husbands for as long as you both shall live. I bless you both,” said the justice, smiling at them. “May I now present to you, for the very first time, Severus Tobias Snape, and Harry James Potter-Snape?”

. . .

Since it was the height of the school year, and the Auror office was always a-buzz with new cases of people attempting to break free of the new regime under Kingsley Shacklebolt, Harry and Severus had to contend with putting off their honeymoon until the summer. That suited the pair of them just fine, as the rest of Christmas vacation they used to bond as a couple, and as parents in raising Lily. Even Kreacher seemed to think that things were improved since Harry and Severus were married, and took to calling his new master “Master Severus”, and would frequently speak about how Sundays were reserved for roasts, not only because it was tradition, but because it was Severus’s favorite meal.

“What are you thinking?” Severus asked, after they’d put Lily to bed on Valentine’s Day, and were basking in their successful post-lovemaking session.

Harry sighed for a moment, not wanting to upset Severus in the slightest. They were married; each had a wonderful job; they had a beautiful home; a loyal house-elf; a beautiful daughter... It was shocking to Harry as he came to the direct conclusion that something was still missing, and he knew that this nagging feeling wouldn’t go away until he informed his husband of it, the sooner the better.

“Do you want more children?” he asked.

Severus turned then, so as he could meet Harry’s eyes. “More children?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah. I always wanted a sibling,” he admitted. “Not in the circumstances I was given, of course, but if things had been different...”

“You think Lily should have a brother or sister?”

“A brother,” Harry replied, moving over so as he’d positioned himself on top of Severus, and a gasp escaped from betwixt his lips as he felt Severus rising up beneath him. “I’d like to have a son with you, Severus, if you’re willing...”

Severus grinned slowly then, allowing his fingers to gently cup at Harry’s arse. “I would love to have a son with you, Harry,” he replied.

A sigh of relief escaped Harry’s mouth. “Well, who’s to say we can’t try, then?”

. . .

In March, Harry was pleased when he and Severus were given a rare weekend off by Kingsley and Minerva respectively, and they went away. They found a little village in Ireland to stay in, called Kenmare, and immediately seemed to fall in line with the locals there. Lily was in the care of Ron and Hermione, while Kreacher made it his mission to boss the cows around until they returned home.

Once they checked into the old castle-like hotel, Harry and Severus made it their mission to cast Silencing Charms and make love over every foreseeable surface. If anything should break, they could easily cast _Reparo_ , they decided. Not that it was their mission to break anything, mind you, but they didn’t exactly intend on being careful. Careful was not part of the vacation handbook—not on this trip, anyway—and Severus only had one mission in mind before they returned home to Devon, although Harry was beginning to catch on what that mission was. The mission, Severus decided, was to get Harry pregnant again.

“Fuck,” Harry whispered, falling back onto the massive bed in their suite, carding his hands through his hair, his body immediately responding positively to the soft mattress and pillows beneath him. “You’re exhausting me,” he joked.

Severus chuckled, turning onto his side. “Perhaps that is my goal.”

Harry blinked, rolling over to meet his husband’s eyes. “Oh? And why would you want to do something like that, I wonder?”

Severus grinned. “Maybe because I don’t wish my young husband to accuse me on going back on my word.”

Harry arched an eyebrow. “And why would I do something like that?”

“To make me want to punish you,” Severus replied.

Harry lowered his eyes then, and Severus immediately wondered if he had said the wrong thing, but his thoughts quickly vanished when Harry raised his eyes back upwards then, and lunged at his husband, wrapping his body around his. “Something tells me I’d like this punishment,” he whispered into his ear.

Severus laughed aloud then, not expecting that reaction. “I assume.”

Harry swallowed then, pushing himself upwards so as he could meet Severus’s eyes. “What did you mean just now? About you keeping your word?”

“Oh,” Severus said, rolling Harry back down onto the bed. “That.”

“Yes,” Harry said, nodding. “That.”

Severus smiled, looking down at Harry and wondering just what he had done to deserve such a beautiful, wonderful man in his life. “Well... You mentioned last month that you would like to attempt to have another child.”

Harry sucked in a considerable amount of breath then. “Severus...”

“Have you changed you mind?”

“No!” Harry said quickly, shaking his head. “No, of course not. I want to have another child with you. I want us to have a son.”

Severus smiled. “Good.”

“Is that why you’ve been so...rough?” Harry asked then, a slow smile creeping onto his lips. “I mean, you haven’t been like this since the forest...”

“I think you mistake rough for thorough,” Severus said with a grin.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. “Fair enough. So, is that the reason, then?”

“Perhaps.”

“Ah, I see,” Harry replied. He slipped from the bed then, and Severus’s arms fell onto the mattress as he attempted to keep Harry next to him.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

Harry turned slowly then, and grinned at his husband. “I was going to run a bath.”

“Ah,” said Severus, lying back dejectedly on the pillows. “Enjoy yourself, then.”

Harry scoffed then, turning on the taps wordlessly, before making his way back to the bed. “The reason why I picked this room, Severus, was because the bath was big enough for two.”

Severus picked his head up then. “Say that one more time.”

Harry grinned. “The reason why I picked this room, Severus,” he said, this time deliberately slowing down his explanation, “was because the bath was big enough for two.” He hesitated for a moment, before he spoke again. “Perhaps that’s all we need, in order to spice things up a bit. I think that making love to my husband, in a large-sized bath, in a hotel, in a village in Ireland, would be such a beautiful thing...”

No sooner had he said those words, than Severus launched from the bed and picked Harry up, pressing kiss after kiss to his lips, and hauled him into the bathroom before slamming the door behind them.

. . .

“They’re just beautiful, you guys,” Harry said, gazing down at Ginny, surrounded by Ron and Hermione as well.

Dean stood proudly by Ginny’s side. “Couldn’t have done it without her.”

Ginny stuck her tongue out at Dean before turning back to them. “You’ll be godparents, won’t you?” she asked. “I promised Seamus for Dean as one of the godfathers...”

“We’ll work it out,” Ron said quickly.

Hermione, who was sitting at the foot of the bed and had permitted Ginny and Dean’s daughter to close her small hand around her index finger, glowed with warmth. “When do you think Rose can have a brother or sister?” she asked softly.

Ron gulped audibly. “Hermione, maybe we should wait on it,” he said, scratching the back of his neck in anxiety. “I mean, we’ve got Rose, for one thing. Luna and Rolf have just had their boys, not to mention Neville and Draco having young Scorpius and baby Alice. And then Harry and Severus have got Lily, and Ginny and Dean have just had twins. I just suggest that we take a moment and step back, and really consider...”

“What?! We’re seriously allowing our friends’ breeding habits dictate ours?! Have you gone mad, Ron?!” she hissed, turning to her husband, while Harry met Ginny and Dean’s eyes, and they all grinned in amusement. “You are one of seven, Ronald. I hardly think one more child, making it an even two, would be much of an issue.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “Are you trying to tell me something, Hermione?”

Hermione reddened then. “No, no of course not,” she said, her tone sheepish. “I just mean that, eventually, I think it would be appropriate to discuss having another child.”

“Perhaps we could discuss the possibility of—”

“Ronald!” Hermione yelled under her breath, so as not to disturb the babies.

Ron sighed, rolling his eyes again. “Yes, Hermione. We’ll have another one eventually. Of course we’ll have another one. Can’t imagine Rose all alone...”

Hermione smiled, placated for a moment. “Good,” she put in.

“Gideon Harold and Dagmar Molly,” Harry announced, coming in through the Floo with the announcement regarding Dean and Ginny’s twins.

“Twins?” Severus asked, aghast.

Harry grinned, shrugging his shoulders. “They’re known to run in families.”

“Merlin help us if we ever have twins,” Severus said.

Harry hesitated for a moment, before looking away. “Twins often skip generations, or are some kind of fluke,” he said with a shrug. “I haven’t seen any twins in past generations of various families I’m a part of, although, Merlin knows, I’m a fluke...”

Severus blinked, getting to his feet and crossing the room, and gently holding Harry from behind as he gazed out their bedroom window and into the beautiful Devon evening. “What in Salazar’s name are you talking about, Harry?” he asked his husband, as Harry’s posture slackened slightly, so as he was nestled into Severus’s arms. “I don’t understand. You’re no fluke.”

Harry swallowed. “I survived that Killing Curse, Severus,” he said softly, and Severus automatically tightened his grip around his husband. “That’s no small feat, especially because it’s supposed to be impossible to do so. Sure, my mother’s love shielded me from the curse, and I became a Horcrux because of it, but...”

“Listen to me, Harry,” Severus said, his voice firm as he gently turned him around. “You’re certainly no fluke. You are exceptional, that’s true, and certainly something out of the ordinary, but no fluke. I never want to hear you say something like that again.”

Harry hesitated. “But... You told me during my fifth-year that I was lazy and arrogant just like my father...”

“I perceived the wrong information about you. You were hardly lazy—you were exhausted from the nightmares you’d been suffering from,” Severus told him, his voice gentle. “And as for the arrogance I accused you of? Nonsense. You’ve said yourself more times than I can count that you despised your fame. It is not something you could choose, unfortunately, and it is something you must shoulder, but I’ll always be here to shoulder it with you.”

Harry blinked, looking up. “You will?”

Severus smiled down at him. “Of course I will. I’m your husband, and you’re mine. I love you, our daughter, and this wonderful life we’ve built together. I wouldn’t change it for the world. However, if we could take back those months of me being a dunderhead during and after I was cursed, followed by my arsehole tendencies afterwards...”

Harry raised his hand up then, and gently covered Severus’s lips, smiling ever so slightly when Severus immediately kissed them. “Just like you, I will shoulder this, Severus,” he said softly to his husband then. “If I’m allowed to call myself a fluke, then you’re certainly not allowed to call yourself an arsehole.”

Severus rolled his eyes playfully. “Very well. I will attempt not to act like one again, thus making me unworthy of that title.”

Harry nodded. “I can agree to those terms, I suppose.”

“Do Ginny and Dean seem happy?”

Harry smiled. “Of course. They’ve got a beautiful son and daughter. Ginny looked exhausted, of course, but Dean assured us that she came through it beautifully.”

Severus sighed, pressing his forehead against Harry’s. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive myself for not being there for you, during your pregnancy, or Lily’s birth. I’d give anything to be able to take it back.”

Harry nodded. “I know. And I wish you were there, too. I’m saddened that you couldn’t be, but I don’t fault you for it. You were cursed, and we didn’t have the answers to undo it. It was hardly anyone’s fault, you know.”

Severus bit his lip. “I suppose we could blame Riddle.”

“I vanquished him, so any blame for every little thing he did died with him. He couldn’t have lived, Severus, and you know it. He had to pay the ultimate price for everything he had done, and I was fully prepared to deliver the appropriate verdict.”

“Would you ever use the Killing Curse again?”

Harry sighed. “I used it on him, plus Bellatrix, Dolohov, and Greyback, which makes up for three deaths which can directly be attributed to me. I hardly think it will be necessary to commit such foul acts again, unless someone directly threatens my husband, people I love, or, of course, my children.”

Severus blinked then, noticeably sensing the plural use behind Harry’s use of the word ‘child’, meaning Lily, which could only mean... “Harry?”

“Yes, Severus?”

Severus gently tilted Harry’s chin up then, and felt a familiar heat flow through him at that look behind those beautiful green eyes of his. “Are you saying what I think you are?”

Harry smiled. “I am,” he said softly. “After Madam Pomfrey finished with Ginny’s delivery, she accused me of looking peaky. I permitted her to put a Diagnostic Spell upon me, and it was soon confirmed that I am pregnant. We’re going to have another child, Severus.”

Severus swept Harry into his arms then, pressing his lips to his, before allowing himself to look into his husband’s eyes again. “I love you,” he replied, and gently cupped Harry’s barely-swollen stomach. “And I love you,” he whispered to it. “Shall we wake Lily and tell her now?”

Harry grinned, standing on his toes and kissing his husband. “We’ll tell Lily in the morning. But, for now, I suggest we think of names for our son.”

Severus looked confused. “Did Poppy tell you it was a boy?”

Harry laughed. “No. Just a feeling, and I’m hardly ever wrong.”

Severus scoffed, ruffling Harry’s hair. “Brat.”

Harry grinned at his husband again—his husband!—and kissed him once more. “Don’t pretend like you don’t love it,” he joked.

“I love you, Harry Potter-Snape,” Severus told him, pressing his lips to Harry’s.

Harry couldn’t help but keep smiling. “I know,” he said, feeling as though his heart would burst from all this happiness. “I love you, too, Severus Snape.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a journey this has been!
> 
> We still have the epilogue, so never fear.
> 
> ANNOUNCEMENT TIME! Evermore is getting a sequel! WHAT?! Yeah, it's officially been outlined all the way, and it will be about Lily and Scorpius growing up and going to Hogwarts and graduating and going through their lives. It's called Speechless - I hope you can see a theme going on here, haha. I hope that those of you who loved Evermore will love Speechless as much as I already do.
> 
> Going to try and post Evermore's epilogue asap. But, you got two chapters today, so I may end up holding off, but we shall see!
> 
> I love you all, and thank you for reading!


	16. Epilogue: Waiting Here For Evermore

Severus and Harry heard the whistle of the train announcing its arrival at Kings Cross Station as soon as they arrived on Platform 9¾. Harry had an arm around eleven-year-old Lily’s shoulders as they walked along, and smiled down at his daughter, whose cart boasted a trunk with the letters L.L.P. upon its front, as well as a cage from the magical menagerie, which hosted a good-sized black kitten with green eyes that Lily had dubbed Isis. Her official name, now that he and Severus were married, was Lily Luna Potter-Snape, but Lily insisted on ‘the Rule of Three’ for her initials upon her trunk, and so her singular last name stood.

Just on Harry’s other side, and holding onto Harry’s hand, was his beloved Severus, and, leaning into his father’s other side, was none other than Albus Severus Potter-Snape, their longed-for son, who was due to turn nine upon his parents’ tenth wedding anniversary. It had been even more of a difficult delivery than it had been with Lily, with Harry’s labor lasting a total of nearly two days. So much so that when Madam Pomfrey checked him over, hours after the birth, she suggested that Harry and Severus not attempt to have any further children naturally, and so their son had become their final child.

“You feeling all right?” Harry asked, looking down at Lily.

Lily sighed; she had felt out-of-place from her family when, on the day her fathers had informed her of Albus’s conception, her magic had manifested. In her shock, her hair had literally gone red; many people believed that this was due to her anger of having another sibling, but Lily insisted that it was from shock. However, no amount of spells from her dad, or potions from her papa, could undo the hair change, so Lily was now a redhead.

“I’m feeling fine,” Lily said quickly, putting on a brave face for her father. “I’m grateful about what Professor McGonagall is doing for Rose.”

Severus rolled his eyes. “Leave it to a child who is half-Granger to get a letter several months earlier than planned, thus accepting her into Hogwarts at the age of ten.”

“Severus,” Harry warned, before turning back to their daughter. “I’m quite sure that you and Rose will have a wonderful time together.”

“We’re going to be in Gryffindor,” Lily said quickly. “Al and I have already figured it out. I’ll be in Gryffindor like you, and Al will be in Slytherin.”

“Maybe Hugo will be in Slytherin, too,” Albus said softly.

Severus laughed aloud. “No, I don’t think so, Al,” he said, kissing the head of his only son. “I think Hugo, like your Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione, will be in Gryffindor as well.”

“Oh,” Albus said, lowering his eyes.

“Scorpius will be in Slytherin. He’s half-Malfoy,” Lily put in.

“Any bets on Teddy yet that I should be made aware of?” Harry asked Severus. “The odds are fifty-fifty for Gryffindor and Hufflepuff.”

“I’m going with Hufflepuff. The poor kid’s too nice for his own good,” Severus said, and rolled his eyes.

Lily looked up then, through the crowds, and caught sight of her Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione, who stood with their daughter and Lily’s greatest friend, Rose, as well as their son, Hugo, who remained glued to Uncle Ron’s side as Aunt Hermione went over a mandatory list with Rose. It was a slight annoyance that there were so many people standing around but, finally, the crowd seemed to part, and she let go of her cart and darted forward to Rose, who promptly turned around and hugged Lily.

“She’s so like you,” Severus scolded as Harry made a grab for the cart; the belongings would be protected by the enchantments put upon her trunk, but Isis would likely not take too kindly to plummeting head-on into the Hogwarts Express.

Harry rolled his eyes. “A Gryffindor through and through.”

“Just a few more hours until we make Gryffindor,” Lily was whispering to Rose as Harry, Severus, and Albus approached. “So soon...”

“Not Gryffindor, _please_!” came a familiar voice as Scorpius walked through the crowd, with Neville and Draco behind him. Scorpius crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. “Slytherin is the only house to be in.”

“Really, Scorpius,” said a small girl beside him, who leaned into Neville’s legs. She had skin as fair as Scorpius’s, but her hair was brown like Neville’s. She clicked her tongue in a moment of disdain, rolling her pretty eyes. “Father and Dad have taught us to be tolerant of all the Houses of Hogwarts, and you would do well to remember that.”

“Alice, you are truly enchanting,” Hermione said to the girl.

“Aunt Hermione!” Alice Longbottom-Malfoy cried out, and dashed forward, only to be lifted into Hermione’s arms.

“I hardly think that debating this will do much good,” said a voice from behind Harry and Severus and, when they turned around, they were all pleased to see Luna and Rolf standing there, along with their sons, Lorcan and Lysander.

“To what do we owe the pleasure?” Severus asked.

“We wanted the boys to get some practice in,” Rolf said with a smile to everyone, and briefly turned to look lovingly at his wife, and proudly down at their identical twin sons. “We wanted them to know how to keep a schedule and such, and how to get up at a reasonable hour to make the eleven o’clock train.”

“Very responsible,” Harry said. “What have you two been up to?”

“Top-secret Magizoology work,” Luna said with a smile. “Can’t really spill the beans on it, as the Muggles say, for the moment, but you’ll all know soon enough.”

“I see them, I see them!” came shouts through the crowd and, just a moment later, Ginny and Dean came up behind Neville and Draco, being pulled along by nine-year-olds Gideon and Dagmar, and everyone was shocked to see a third child in Dean’s arms. “Don’t you remember us?” Gideon asked, and everyone was finally able to put a face to the voice.

“Of course we remember you,” Ron said. “I’m your uncle.”

Gideon raised his brown eyes at Ron, and nodded slowly. “We’ve got the same shaped face,” he said with a smile. “Mara, you remember them, don’t you?”

“Don’t kid yourself, Gid,” Mara said, rolling her eyes. “I likely remember as much about them as you do, considering we’ve been in America all this time.”

“Yeah, how was America?” Harry asked.

“We haven’t had time to talk much,” Hermione said, putting Alice on her other hip. “You’ve been so busy with the cause over there...”

“And tracing Dean’s paternal roots,” Ginny said, squeezing her husband’s arm. “Of course, there’s little Lia here who also takes up a lot of our time.”

“When were you going to tell me I had another niece?” Ron asked.

Dean laughed. “Uh, right now?”

Ginny grinned, resembling Fred and George completely. “Mum and Dad swore to keep it a secret, because we wanted to see everyone’s reactions to it.”

“Hi,” Lia said, waving at Ron with a grin. “My name is Tullia Draconia Thomas, I’m five, and you can call me Lia.”

“Hello, Lia,” Severus said, and Lia promptly turned and gazed at him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, my dear.”

“Tullia, that’s beautiful,” Hermione said. “Does it mean anything?”

“It means ‘peace’,” Luna put in, her voice dreamy as always. “I think that’s what we all want for our world, and it’s a beautiful choice.”

The train whistle sounded again, and the trunks had already been loaded onto the train, with the carts vanishing back to their proper places. Lily, Rose and Scorpius rushed forward to their respective parents for kisses and hugs, and promises to write went between them as fast as they could get them out. Harry and Severus watched as Lily and Rose joined hands and leapt onto the train, and Scorpius hung back for a moment before he entered it as well. Harry, Severus, and Albus walked along the train, Ron and Hermione and company in their wake, and watched as their children found vacancies within compartments, before they struck up the nerve to wave goodbye to their families.

“They’ll be fine,” Severus said, his hand finding Harry’s.

Harry nodded. “I know.”

Harry’s fear of not having a proper family had left him long ago, for now he not only had Severus, Lily, Albus, Dulcis, and Kreacher, but also the Weasleys, the Scamander’s, the Longbottom-Malfoys... The list simply went on and on of the people Harry loved and cared about in the world, and he never wanted that list to dwindle. Yes, time had gone by quickly, but he knew just how ready Lily was to begin her magical education, and from the way she was staring at Teddy Lupin from where they sat across from one another, Lily Luna Potter-Snape seemed ready for anything. At the end of the day, Harry knew that he had made the right decision about his life, and his happiness.

All was well.


End file.
